


International Man of Mystery

by chris_edward (hwshipper)



Series: The Chris 'Verse [15]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-24 06:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwshipper/pseuds/chris_edward
Summary: Summary: The story of Ziggy, Linus's cop friend in the Chris 'verse, and Finn, the love of his life.Excerpt: "Ziggy is our International Man of Mystery," Linus declared, and Ziggy smiled indulgently.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: still indebted to srsly_yes
> 
> A/N: Parallels [Edward's Experiment](https://archiveofourown.org/works/68183/chapters/89980), from the story of Chris and Edward.

Ziggy tucked his poker winnings away in an inside pocket, said goodnight to his fellow players, and glanced around the bar. No sign of Linus, but Chris was hunched in a corner with a glass of whiskey and a book. He didn't particularly look like he wanted to be disturbed, but Ziggy strolled up anyway.

"Hey, Chris. Linus around?"

"Downstairs." Chris gestured with the book. "He saw a pretty new piece of ass, guy called Nico, and made a beeline. Not having much luck, last I saw."

"I'll go see how he's doing." Ziggy was amused. "Where's Edward?"

It was an innocent question but Chris dropped his eyes and folded his arms as he muttered, "He's gone to Florida for a while, designing a conservatory for his parents."

"Oh." Ziggy was surprised; he'd seen Edward here at the club only a week ago, and hadn't heard that planned. "Will he be away long?"

"Naw," Chris said, with such false bravado that Ziggy backed off immediately and headed down the stairs. A touchy subject, clearly.

In the large downstairs bar, Linus was sitting a couple of feet from a group of men, apparently attempting to engage one of them (young, dark-haired, slightly exotic good looks) in conversation. Nico, Ziggy assumed. 

"Hey," Ziggy said to Linus, taking the neighboring seat.

"Ziggy, how wonderful to see you," Linus hailed him, and waved to the bartender. "A beer for my good friend here, and another one for me too."

"What's up with Edward?" Ziggy muttered in Linus's ear.

"Chris screwed around and screwed up," Linus muttered back. "Edward went off on a break. I talked to Julio on the phone the other day, our darling Edward is quite the talk of the town in South Beach."

"Ah." Ziggy nodded.

"I'm almost tempted to fly down myself and see, just for fun, but Chris really needs to get his act together," Linus added as the drinks arrived.

"Linus, why don't you introduce me to your friend?" a new voice chimed in, high-pitched and eager. Ziggy turned his head; it was the young man who was the object of Linus's attempted affections. He had switched seats to join them. 

"Nico, this is Ziggy, also known as Detective Bowie, one of my dearest friends." Linus intoned. "Ziggy, this is Nico, who's staying with friends here in New Jersey on vacation for a while."

"Glad to meet you, Ziggy, I was admiring your eyes," Nico dived straight in. "I've never seen such beautiful eyes before!"

Ziggy blinked, pleased. Some people found his odd eyes, one dark brown and one hazel, positively weird. It was good to get the opposite reaction once in a while. "Thanks."

"And you're a cop?" Nico asked, wide-eyed as he flicked back his hair. "That's why you're so buff, I guess you have to keep fit. I bet you've got a six-pack under that shirt. D'you have handcuffs?"

"I do." Ziggy was amused, but careful to keep his voice and body language neutral.

"Ooh, then arrest me, Officer." Nico held out his wrists. "And I'm up for it if you want to search me. Anal cavity probe, whatever."

"Wasting your time, hon," Linus put in. "My friend here is immune to such come-ons."

Nico stuck his lower lip out. "You're just jealous."

"Maybe, but I'm not kidding. Ziggy is our International Man of Mystery," Linus declared, and Ziggy smiled indulgently. He found the cop-kink come-on was an occupational hazard at the club and in bars. He wasn't immune, but he rarely succumbed. 

"Sorry," Ziggy said kindly to Nico. "I'm not your man. Not tonight."

Nico's head drooped forlornly.

Linus cut in brightly, "I'm sure I have cuffs somewhere at home, if you want--"

"Nico's after the real deal, not the pink furry type." Ziggy couldn't help but tease. 

Linus pretended to glower. "Don't cock-block me if you're not interested!"

That made everyone laugh. Nico beamed and turned his attention to Linus, and Ziggy watched Linus be led astray by his dick for the umpteenth time with detached amusement. 

Ziggy had learned his lesson way back in the day as a twenty-one year old rookie cop, when he'd had to arrest a high-as-a-kite teen from whom he'd enjoyed a blow job two nights before. The teen had recognized him immediately, blabbed it all over the jail cell, and word had spread through the station and beyond. _Never again_. 

No sexual dalliances with anyone locally; that was his rule. The danger of them overlapping with his professional life was too great. It was hard enough being an out gay cop as it was, with attitudes in the squad room ranging from cautiously antagonistic to downright hostile; giving his less sympathetic colleagues ammo like that was just stupid.

He reflected wryly on this rule a few days later, when he met Finn.

* * *

It was at a sucky breakfast meeting at the police station. The station lieutenant had summoned everyone to _Meet Your Friendly Neighborhood Feds._ Cops finishing the night shift were prevailed on to stay around a few minutes, cops coming on the day shift hauled themselves in early, bribed with strong coffee and sweet pastries. Everyone lunged for the donuts, the latecomers having to settle for croissants, and the unlucky last person in was left with the bran muffin.

They all sat around a table, bleary eyed from lack of sleep or too-recent sleep, while two wide-awake and sharp-eyed federal agents were introduced.

"This is Special Agent Hilary Benitez and Special Agent Fintan Massey," the lieutenant said.

"Good morning," said Benitez.

"Hey," said Massey.

Ziggy observed that the majority of his (straight, male) fellow officers fastened their eyes on Benitez's (considerable) chest through the ensuing discussion. 

"So myself and Agent Massey have just been assigned to the New Jersey office, we're based in Newark but we're travelling around to visit all the local police departments, as we really want good working relationships with local law enforcement," Benitez began. She did most of the talking; she clearly wore the trousers. 

Ziggy ate a jelly donut and listened with half a cynical ear while surreptitiously checking out her companion. Tall, tanned, and brown-eyed, smiling and apparently amiable, Fintan Massey was easy on the eye. He had dark curly hair with a carefully trimmed circle beard of light stubble (Ziggy had always had a slight weakness for facial hair), and was very neatly turned out in a perfectly ironed shirt and tie.

The cops all introduced themselves and there was some chitchat about possible overlaps and synergy. But Ziggy knew that everyone around the table knew this was a complete waste of time. The feds would do whatever they wanted, because they always did. Anyway, Newark was fucking miles away from their bit of ocean territory, and relevant to almost nothing they did.

Benitez and Massey soon departed, leaving the cops eating up the remaining pastries.

"Whaddya make of the Fed with...?" was the first question posed by one of Ziggy's coarser colleagues, miming large breasts with a croissant in each hand.

Benitez and Massey would subsequently be christened in squad room parlance as _The Fed With_ (tits) and _The Fed Without_ (likewise).

"She can have a good working relationship with me anytime," a second cop opined.

"Think her partner's boning her?" queried the first.

"If not, he wants to," someone else chipped in.

"Who wouldn't?" leered another. Ziggy was used to this kind of talk and kept diplomatically silent.

"His shirt was ironed, he's probably married," one of the (straight) female cops put in.

"No wedding ring, though," said another.

Ziggy hadn't thought to look for a wedding ring but found himself vaguely interested in the observation. He licked his fingers thoughtfully and went to do some work.

* * *

On his way home that evening, Ziggy decided to swing by Chris's roadside bar for a beer. He parked in the lot and headed inside by way of the back of the building, as he wanted to go to the bathroom first which was around the back.

He entered the bar through the back door a few minutes later, and stopped dead. A few feet in front of him, a man sat at the bar with his back toward Ziggy. The guy was wearing a more casual shirt and jacket than that morning, but still immaculately tailored. Even from the back of his head, Ziggy recognized him; it was the Fed Without. Fintan Massey.

Massey's choice of seat was that of a law enforcer; sit where you could see everyone in the whole room. But not being a local, he clearly didn't know there was a back entrance behind him. It was half-hidden behind a pillar, newbies didn't tend to spot it until they were directed toward the bathroom.

Amused, Ziggy stepped up behind him and spoke softly in his ear. "Evening, Agent Massey."

Fintan Massey jumped two feet in the air and wheeled around to face Ziggy with startled eyes. "Uh--uh--" Recognition dawned. "You're one of the local cops." Beat. "Odd eyes--Detective Bowie?"

The bartender was looking at Ziggy from down the other end of the bar, silently asking, _trouble?_ Ziggy shook his head slightly; _no trouble_. He was impressed by Agent Massey's recall, Ziggy had been only one of quite a number of cops around the table. On the other hand, the odd eyes did tend to stick in people's memories. 

"Call me Ziggy." Even a federal agent could call him Ziggy. Certainly a handsome one who chose to drink in gay bars.

"Call me Finn." Fintan Massey was blushing a becoming shade of pink behind his mustache. Ziggy appreciated a close-up view; a carefully manicured mustache, it thinned out at the sides down to a shadow of a beard. 

The bartender drifted up. "Your usual, Ziggy?"

"Thanks, Brandon." Ziggy watched Finn take in that Ziggy was sufficiently regular to have a usual, and to know the bartender.

"I'll have another of these, please." Finn gestured at his bottle of Bud and flipped bills across the counter.

As he produced the drinks Brandon raised his eyebrows at Ziggy, who shook his head ever so slightly to indicate no, he wasn't putting Finn's drinks on his tab. Brandon picked up the money and lingered for a few seconds, but presumably discerning that neither of the men were going to strike up a conversation while he was standing there, drifted off down the bar. 

Alone, Finn spoke first. "Are you... working right now, Ziggy?"

Ziggy would not have ordered a drink if on duty, and knew Finn would have known that too. He deduced that Finn wanted to find out if he was gay, but was afraid of offending him with the direct question in case he wasn't. "No, I'm off duty at the moment. Are _you?"_

He thought it entirely possible that Finn, drinking or not drinking, was staking out the bar for some ghastly federal investigation. If Chris's bar was a hive for money-laundering or terrorist plots, then Ziggy wanted to know. This was his turf, after all.

"No, no," Finn muttered. "I was just...passing, driving along the highway, saw the bar, thought I'd stop for a drink."

That was probably untrue. If there was no federal business, it was much more likely Finn had been looking up gay bars in the area he was visiting. And anyway, nobody could fail to see this was a gay bar within two seconds of stepping inside, so even if he hadn't known beforehand it had not put him off staying for a drink. 

Ergo, the curly-haired mustached Fed went for men. Ziggy found himself obscurely pleased. He rarely met fellow gay law enforcement officers.

"You come here often?" Finn asked, smiling as he uttered the cliched phrase.

Ziggy smiled back. "Sometimes. I know the owner, he owns a few bars and restaurants around here. And a club where I go to play poker. You play?"

"Not very well. I'm not a great one for going out to bars, either." Finn looked down at the counter.

"So what do you do in your spare time, Finn?" Ziggy went for friendly with a touch of flirtatiousness. 

"I like sports. Walking, running, canoeing, skiing...."

"Golf?" Golf was Ziggy's great passion. He planned vacations around golf courses. His regular Monday date with Linus to play was the highlight of his week.

"Yeah, golf is fun." Finn became visibly more animated. They managed a golfing conversation for a while, talking about comparative handicaps and the pros and cons of different courses. It transpired that Finn had been based in Massachusetts before his recent transfer to New Jersey, where Ziggy had played a couple of times on vacation. Ziggy expounded to Finn about the virtues and vices of various Jersey courses. 

It was nice. Eventually Finn finished his second beer and looked at his watch. "Um, I'm outta here."

"It's not that late," Ziggy pointed out. "Want another?"

"Naw, thanks. Look, I'm staying in the motel next door," Finn said, twisting a cardboard coaster into shreds. "The unit on the far end."

This was a come-on. Ziggy knew the motel layout, nodded, but kept his expression neutral.

"Number twenty, I think. It's got a bright red SUV parked outside, not mine," Finn added, gabbling a bit now, covering embarrassment. "It got dumped and the motel managers haven't had it towed yet." He slid off the bar stool. "Night."

"Night," Ziggy echoed, and watched Finn's ass as he made his way out of the bar.

Should he follow? Ziggy took his time finishing his own beer, then ordered a whiskey, not hurrying his decision. 

Ziggy had never had a particularly high sex drive, but when he wanted to hook up with someone (and sometimes the urge did take him), he did it away from his own turf. _Never_ in the jurisdiction of his own police department. He took short trips out of state and long vacations in far-flung places. No danger of running into extended family members (and Ziggy came from a large family), no (nosy) work colleagues, none of his (extensive) golfing or poker circles.

Bedding a Fed? Obviously not a good idea. But... this was a fed buried so deep in the closet that he couldn't even bear to admit he'd come here to score. Fintan Massey was not going to spread this story anywhere anytime soon. 

It had been a while since Ziggy had gotten some.

* * *

When Ziggy slid off the stool and headed for the door, he caught a knowing look from Brandon and mentally sighed. Finn might have thought he'd been oh-so-subtle leaving on his own, but they hadn't gotten past the observant bartender. This gossip would get to Chris within twenty-four hours (Brandon had a terrible crush on his boss; this was perhaps the worst kept secret in the local gayborhood, everyone knew except Chris himself) and therefore with Linus within forty-eight.

He left by the back entrance via the bathroom, thinking it prudent to visit the condom vending machine. He wasn't in the habit of carrying these things around with him, like Linus.

Over at the motel, he found the unit on the far end did indeed have a hideous red SUV parked outside. A discreet tan sedan rested nearby; Finn's car, Ziggy surmised. He tapped at the door, realizing as he did so that it was now quite late, and dark, maybe Finn had given up on him by this time and gone to bed...

But after a moment there came the sound of a lock turning, then the door swung open. Ziggy stepped inside, squinting into semi-darkness; and there was Finn, sleepy-eyed and rumple-haired, bare-chested and quite possibly the Hottest. Thing. Ever. 

"I thought you weren't coming," Finn murmured, pushing the door closed. 

"Sorry," Ziggy said inadequately. As the last crack of light vanished, Ziggy was temporarily blinded just as juicy lips fastened on his own, sending sharp thrills down nerve endings to tingle his spine. He felt Finn's mustache bristle against his face, and nuzzled back, relishing the tiny spikes of hair prickling his skin.

"You're wearing too many clothes," Finn muttered, stepping backward to the bed. Ziggy blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dimness; Finn was wearing only boxer shorts, a snug fit showing off a sizable bulge.

"We can fix that." Ziggy spent some time taking off his clothes, placing his shoulder holster with his gun carefully over the back of a chair, while Finn sprawled on the bed and watched. 

As Ziggy approached the bed, Finn sat up and put his feet on the floor. He reached out to place a hand on Ziggy's hip, and pulled Ziggy toward him, taking him fully in his mouth.

 _Whoa and wow and fuck_. It had been way too long. Ziggy groped for the memory of the last blow-job he'd had, on vacation in California the previous year, in a hotel room rather nicer than this one. This... was better. Finn Massey might be shy and closeted, but he'd learned enough along the way to know how to blow.

Ziggy let himself be taken to the brink before stepping back and dropping to his knees to reciprocate. Finn moaned, _"Yeah, Ziggy, oh, yeah"_ clasping at Ziggy's head, groping at his hair, then gasped sharply and pulled back just in time, shooting over Ziggy's shoulder.

"Huh, sorry," Finn gasped. "Closer than I thought. Fucking amazing."

Ziggy wondered if maybe it had been even longer since Finn had sex than he had. He got to his feet, flexing aching knees, and reaching for his own hard-on, ready to finish himself off.

"If you like to top, you can do me," Finn said awkwardly, and Ziggy was surprised but pleased. He was versatile and willing to do either for the right man. 

It did sound appealing, actually. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, do it." Finn breathed deeply. 

Ziggy took his time getting ready, getting Finn ready with the help of some hand lotion, thinking it might be really a while since Agent Fintan Massey had done this. Once he had Finn appropriately slippery and relaxed and compliant on his back, legs splayed, Ziggy sheathed up and went in.

 _Oh my God I can happy die right now I've experienced heaven_. Being inside Finn was just magic; suspended in a trembling, ecstatic trance-like state, Finn tight and quivering beneath him. The two of them remained locked in a heaving thrusting mass until Ziggy climaxed with a strangled cry, and Finn threw his arms up to embrace him as he collapsed.

After a few minutes, Ziggy pulled out as gently as he could and shifted sidewards onto the bed beside Finn. The world faded from Technicolor back to dim shades of darkness.

* * *

Ziggy woke from dreamless sleep to find Finn sprawled on the bed beside him, snoring softly. He was really damn good-looking, Ziggy realized; all the more so when naked with mussed-up hair.

It was three AM. Ziggy got up to get a glass of water, moving quietly so as not to disturb his sleeping companion. 

He spotted a folded sheet of paper stuck under the motel room door. He picked it up, and saw it was addressed to _Mr Stapleton_. 

Wrong room, Ziggy thought, as the piece of paper fell open in his hand. It was a note from the motel clerk saying the rogue red SUV had been towed, so if he wanted to move his car into the space outside, that would be fine.

Right room. Wrong name? Suddenly Ziggy felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked around the room, then headed toward the closet, where Finn had hung up all his clothes neatly. In the inside jacket pocket was a wallet; a wad of cash, no credit cards (odd), and a driver's license. With Finn's picture, but someone else's name. _Robert Stapleton_.

What the fuck was going on?

_Who had he just slept with?_

Ziggy groped for his own clothes which were stacked on a chair. He pulled on his pants and felt less vulnerable immediately. He then fished his gun out of the shoulder holster, which was looped around the chair back. The cold metal in his hand made his fear ebb away, to be replaced by anger. There was deception going on here somewhere, and he didn't like it one little bit.

He snapped the bedside light on and shook Finn awake. As Finn squinted and muttered "Uh?", rubbing his eyes, Ziggy sat down in the chair next to the bed.

"What the _fuck?"_ Finn's voice rose to a shriek as he saw Ziggy pointing the gun in Finn's direction. 

"Mr Robert Stapleton, or should I say Agent Fintan Massey?" Ziggy demanded.

"What! Oh! Fuck!" Finn rubbed a hand across his face. "Put the gun down! I'm Finn Massey, I'm a federal agent, you _know_ that!"

Rationality seeped back into Ziggy's seething soul; he did know that. This guy had been introduced by the chief of police as a federal agent, they'd sat and talked about New Jersey crime, that was all true.

"Where's your badge?" Ziggy thought to query.

"Locked in the briefcase under the bed. With _my_ gun and stuff. Take a look if you don't believe me."

But Ziggy did believe it, and put his own gun back in the shoulder holster. It had been an overreaction. He was still angry, though. "What's this Robert Stapleton shit about?"

Finn flushed pink and looked down at the bedcovers. "I'm... undercover."

Ziggy was indignant at the idea that a federal investigation might be going on under his nose after all. "You said you were off duty."

"I am." Finn shifted in the bed. "I'm... personally undercover. Robert Stapleton is my alter ego."

Ziggy digested this. "You go out to get laid under another name?" 

"Why not?" Finn said, in a reasoned tone. "Half the names people give out in bars are fake."

"Maybe, but not everyone has a driving license to back their story up," Ziggy retorted.

"It's from an old investigation, when I really was undercover," Finn admitted. "They forgot to ask for the ID back, so I never gave it them. Thought it might be useful."

A revolting thought occurred to Ziggy. "Don't tell me you go and give rentboys your fake name, then whip out your badge when they're about to put your dick in their mouth and tell them they're giving you a freebie tonight." Ziggy had once had a dirtball colleague in Vice who had been in the habit of doing exactly that, with hookers. Bastard.

"Christ, no!" Finn's face screwed up into contortions. "Listen, I go to bars once in a blue moon! I live like a monk, I watch TV every night and eat TV dinners. When I can't stand it anymore I jack off over porn, which I then hide at the back of my closet in case someone from work comes around." Beat. "And just sometimes, if I'm a long way from home, maybe I'll dig out my Robert Stapleton ID and see if I can get laid. I know, it's sad."

It _was_ sad. Although Ziggy didn't relate to much of Finn's description, he felt a small twinge of empathy at the last part; he also waited until he was a long way from home before he ever tried to get laid.

So, Fintan Massey was a lonely closeted fuckup. Damn shame. Ziggy swallowed regrets, and stood up to go. "Nice getting to know you, Agent Massey. Maybe I'll see you around."

"You're leaving?" Finn's face arched with dismay. 

"I don't like people lying to me," Ziggy said starkly.

"But I didn't lie to you," Finn burst out. "I didn't give you my fake name."

"You couldn't," Ziggy pointed out.

"Thing is, actually, you're the first person I ever slept with where I really could be myself," Finn said in a whisper. "First person I've ever even _met_ where I could really be myself."

And that made Ziggy pause. Because that really was something. "You're not out. Nobody knows?"

"Nope."

Please. The guy had hand lotion on his nightstand and ironed his shirts. "What about your partner, Benitez?"

"She suspects, 'cause I've worked with her two years and never tried to grab her ass." Finn shrugged. "She once said I must be either gay or a gentleman. I said the two weren't mutually exclusive. She hasn't asked since."

Benitez knew, Ziggy surmised, but wasn't the type to pry. "Your family?"

"Blissful ignorance," Finn said in a tone of the utmost gloom. "Age thirty-five and Mom and Dad still think I haven't met the right girl yet."

Ziggy ruminated on that for a minute. 

"What do you want from me?" he said at last. 

Finn paused in turn, before saying simply, "I guess I was hoping I could keep being myself with you."

"I can't. I--" Ziggy struggled mentally with his rules. They could be broken, like any rules. "Look, I can't go out with a Fed! I'm a cop. Cops and Feds, we don't mix, do we? What if we had to work together? What if you had a case in my area? If my colleagues found out--"

"Then we have something in common," Finn pounced. "Neither of us want to be found out. Look, we can make this work. Please. I really want to."

He was still naked, his hair was still mussed, and his stubble shaded his cheekbones and jawline in a most attractive way.

Ziggy was to remember that image often in future, when wondering how on earth he had ended up in a relationship with Finn Massey.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The story of Ziggy, Linus's cop friend in the Chris 'verse, and the love of his life. Part 2: Finn's encounters with Edward.
> 
> Excerpt: Finn was sprawled on the sand looking very comfortably rugged, his hair windswept in the ocean breeze, beer in one hand, cigarette in the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part parallels [Blast from the Past](https://archiveofourown.org/works/68183/chapters/89981) from Chris & Edward.

The dull red sun was low in the sky as Ziggy pulled his car into his favored spot in the hotel parking lot, glancing up at the ponderous white building and trying to spot Finn at the familiar fifth floor window. Not seeing anything, he finished parking and reached for his phone to check for a text. A new one was there, reading simply _Room 404_. Finn clearly hadn't been able to get their preferred top floor corner room this week; never mind.

He headed inside, smiling vaguely in the direction of the reception desk and walking straight to the elevator, dragging his small wheeled case behind him. 

"Nice weather for it," a suited man also waiting for the elevator opined. He meant golf, the main reason to stay at this country house hotel. A trim 18 hole course lurked out back.

"Yeah," Ziggy agreed politely, not wanting to get into conversation.

He found the room on the fourth floor and tapped at the door; it opened immediately. In this situation, Ziggy never failed to remember their first encounter, the motel room door opening with the sleepy-eyed Finn behind it. 

They'd traded up to nicer hotels since then...

He stepped inside and as the door closed behind him, Finn pulled him in for a kiss.

"Hey," Finn said a moment later. His eyes weren't sleepy this time, but his voice was husky. "No traffic? You made good time."

"Yeah." Ziggy nuzzled Finn's cheek, reveling in the stubbly bristles brushing his lips. "Time before dinner for--?"

"Oh yeah." 

And at the prospect of good food, decent beer, a testing game of golf and (of course) sheer naked pleasure between the sheets over the next two days, Ziggy felt suddenly truly happy.

* * *

After a couple of false starts, Ziggy and Finn had found a routine that worked. They met every two to three weeks, for two or three days. Between their liaisons, they both worked a lot of shifts so as to be fairly sure they could escape for a short break without interruption from their jobs. They'd been in this pattern for six months now, and it was working out fine.

And they had found a regular place to go; the perfect country house hotel, over the state border in Pennsylvania, a couple of hours drive away for them both. The other clientele were businessmen there for the golf and married businessmen meeting their mistresses; nobody was inclined to pry too much into other guests. The hotel had an excellent restaurant and bar, and the beds were infinitely more comfortable than the motel room mattress they'd gotten together on.

Ziggy had visited Finn at his home in Newark once, but Finn had been so twitchy and nervous about them being seen together, they hadn't repeated it. Finn had also visited Ziggy's house a couple of times, but avoided meeting anyone Ziggy knew.

Linus had been inquisitive of course, the gossip grapevine in operation just as Ziggy had expected. He'd met Linus for their regular golf match not long after he'd gotten together with Finn. 

"So Ziggy, I hear you got lucky last week," Linus said, plucking a club from his golf bag. "I want names, I want places, I want dates."

"Don't believe everything you hear," Ziggy parried, lining up a shot.

"But I have it on the most excellent authority!" Linus protested. "Chris says Brandon saw you leave the bar with this very handsome guy--"

Ziggy hit the ball high, and squinted after it. "Brandon's got an overactive imagination." 

"And," Linus went on in a tone of finality as he put his own ball on the tee, "When he shut up the bar and left at two o'clock in the morning, your car was still in the lot. Ergo, you went back to the motel with him."

Jesus, the rumor mill was even more effective than he'd thought. "I deny everything."

"You can deny it all you want, I _know_ you went off with him, whoever he was, and I will fill in the gap with my own imagination," Linus concluded with a swing.

"You imagine all you like." Ziggy shaded his eyes to peer after the ball.

* * *

Linus got bored and stopped prodding eventually, and over the next few months, Ziggy found happiness with Finn. 

Meanwhile, Nico went home to Belgium, leaving Linus temporarily desolate, but Chris and Edward made up in Florida and Edward came home, which was good news. Even better news followed Edward's return; Chris gave him joint title to their house. This sign of commitment both surprised and amused Ziggy; the pre-Edward commitment-phobe Chris would have been the last person to have done such a thing. 

Ziggy and Linus witnessed signatures on deeds and Ziggy suggested they throw a party to celebrate, a suggestion which Linus seized with great enthusiasm. However when Chris and Edward set their party date, Ziggy was dismayed to find it clashed with a weekend scheduled to be spent with Finn. 

Unwilling to lose that time, he suggested to Finn that he come down to the Jersey coast and stay at his house.

"I have to go to a party," Ziggy explained. "It's a celebration. Two friends of mine, Chris and Edward, just made a commitment. Joint title to their house. I witnessed the paperwork."

"Then you have to go," Finn said gruffly. "I'll come stay at your place. We can hang out before and after."

"You could come to the party," Ziggy pressed his luck.

"No, no," Finn said hastily. "You go, I'll watch TV or go for a drive or something."

Ziggy was reluctant to let his precious time with Finn be wasted, and when the evening came, he suggested it again. 

"Come with me, you don't have to meet anyone. Chris and Edward live right on the coast with a private strip of beach. You could sit out on the sand while I go mingle. I promise to bring you party food."

Finn looked out of the window at the still, warm night. "Maybe that would be OK. Hey, I can be your designated driver."

They drove to Chris and Edward's house, which was teeming with friendly people, food, drink and loud music. Ziggy left Finn sprawled discreetly at the far end of the beach with a single bottle of beer and a promise of food to come, while he went into the house to say hello to his friends. 

"Ziggy, hey, glad you could make it," Chris hailed him as he walked inside. 

"Congratulations, again." Ziggy handed over beer, and was swept into a melee of friends and acquaintances. He circulated a little, making friendly conversation. Although some people must have seen him arrive with Finn, nobody quite dared ask who his friend down the other end of the beach was.

One person whom Ziggy knew wouldn't hesitate to poke his nose in was Linus, but fortunately Linus had his own preoccupation and hadn't noticed. A visitor was in town, and Linus only had eyes for him.

"Hey, Ravi, long time no see." Ziggy greeted him with an air-hug. Ziggy was always torn between liking Ravi as a person while disapproving of what he did (porn movies, escort work, law-breaking along the way no doubt).

"Officer Bowie, the pleasure is all mine," Ravi's perfect white teeth arched into a beautiful, genuine smile. "I do hope Linus has been behaving himself recently."

"Nothing to get arrested for," Ziggy joked.

"We'll have to see what we can do about that," Ravi joked back.

Whatever Ravi's flaws, Ziggy reflected inwardly, at least he wasn't potentially underage. Linus's predilection for borderline legal young men kept Ziggy awake worrying at night sometimes.

"Ravi hasn't met Edward before. I'm hoping they'll get on well," Linus remarked, and Ziggy could practically see drool forming. Ziggy had no particular objection to Linus's liberal attitude to partner-sharing, but preferred not to be around when it happened, and he ducked out of the house soon afterwards.

He piled barbecue meat on a paper plate and walked it down the beach back to Finn. Finn was sprawled on the sand looking very comfortably rugged, his hair windswept in the ocean breeze, beer in one hand, cigarette in the other.

"Thanks," he said, putting the beer down to pick up a chicken drumstick. "I was hoping you'd bring some of these. I can smell 'em from here, my mouth was watering."

Ziggy sat down next to Finn and they munched contentedly together for a few minutes until a young man with glasses and floppy hair nibbling a corn on the cob came tramping down the shore toward them. Ziggy felt Finn go tense, and reached out to pat his arm reassuringly.

"Hey, Edward," Ziggy greeted the newcomer easily. "This is a friend of mine, Fi--"

"Robert Stapleton," Finn interrupted seamlessly, and Ziggy barely stifled a choke. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise." Edward held out the hand not holding the corn on the cob, and they shook vigorously, Edward's glasses slipping down his nose as they did so. "Sorry to bother you, I can see you don't want to be disturbed. I just wanted to say hello and tell you that any friend of Ziggy's is welcome here."

"Thanks," Finn said, a trifle sheepishly. "And congratulations on the house thing."

They chatted for a few minutes, Edward so endearingly enthusiastic and blissfully happy that Ziggy could only smile.

"Chris is looking for me," Edward said suddenly, waving at a tall, fair-haired man in the distance. "I should go, nice to meet you, Robert. Maybe I'll see you again sometime."

Ziggy and Finn sat and watched Edward slipping and sliding through sand as he made his way back to the house.

"He's adorable," Finn said, rolling his beer bottle between his palms.

"Isn't he." Ziggy spotted an opportunity to make a point. "He didn't find coming out easy, you know. He even got married along the way--still is married, in fact. His wife won't give him a divorce."

"You're kidding."

"No." Ziggy explained a little about Edward's conservative family background. Finn leaned forward in concentration as he listened. Ziggy held one thing back; Linus had once told him that Edward had been in an abusive relationship with a guy in college, and gotten married pretty much on the rebound. Ziggy was pretty sure that Linus shouldn't have told him and decided not to spread that any further.

"Y'know, I was engaged to be married once," Finn said in a matter-of-fact tone at the end, and Ziggy felt his jaw drop.

"Really?"

"Way back in college." Finn put a hand up to rub his eyes. "When I went to college I wanted to be like everyone else. It's not something I'm proud of."

"What happened?" Ziggy couldn't help but ask.

"We met during freshman week. She liked me for some reason. I was in pretty serious denial and just wanting to fit in so I went along with it. Our sex life was terrible to non-existent and she blamed herself instead of me, cowardly fucker that I am, I let her think that." Finn buried his face in his hands. "And then somehow I blurted out a proposal, thinking that might solve everything. Thank goodness she broke it off before we actually got hitched, 'cause I didn't have the guts to."

"Fuck." Ziggy tried to imagine being in such a situation, but couldn't. 

"You've always been out, right?" Finn asked, a trifle unexpectedly. Ziggy nodded. "When did you tell your Mom and Dad?"

"I hardly even remember it," Ziggy said honestly. "I was nine years old, Mom said, when I told her solemnly in the kitchen one day that when I grew up, I didn't want to marry a girl, I wanted to marry a boy. Bless her, she told me to be careful who else I said that to, and that was that. Sometimes she asked if I'd changed my mind, but I never did."

"But isn't your family...." Finn twisted the empty paper plate between his fingers. "Conservative types? Your dad--small town sheriff in rocky Montana, right?"

"Yeah. I stick out like a sore thumb when I visit. I'm known as the pink sheep of the family." This was an old family joke that Ziggy rattled out cheerfully. "I had two brothers and two sisters who were always gonna fulfil the norm and give Mom and Dad all the grandchildren they could ever want. They could afford to indulge one queer middle child in his strange lifestyle choice. I always wanted to be a cop, which they approved of, and I could look after myself at school, so they never worried that much about me."

"Huh." Finn pondered that. 

"I was lucky," Ziggy added, thinking he had never realized how lucky.

They sat in silence for a while, until Finn said apropos of nothing, "I wish I could apologize to her."

The college fiancée, Ziggy presumed. "Maybe you could." 

"But I couldn't explain why," Finn said sadly. 

_Unless you came out,_ Ziggy silently added, and was sorry that Finn seemed no closer to this point than before. He put an arm around Finn's shoulders rather tentatively; there was nobody nearby, but it was the first sign of affection Ziggy had dared show outside a private room. 

To his pleasure, Finn didn't shrug him off, but turned his head toward him, and they kissed. Finn tasted of barbecue sauce and sea salt, a gorgeous combination that had Ziggy practically supping at his lips. 

He put a hand up to touch Finn's cheek, luxuriating in the bristles, and before long they were lying on the sand necking like teenagers. Ziggy could feel Finn's hard-on pressing against his thigh, and after a while, dared to unzip Finn's fly and slide his hand inside. Finn sucked his breath in hard, but didn't move to stop him. Ziggy watched Finn's eyes roll madly in their sockets as he pumped, until Finn came into his fist with a groan.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, eyes closed now, breathing heavily. "Did--did anyone see?"

"Nope," Ziggy said briskly, without bothering to look around, and unbuttoned his own fly. "My turn?"

Finn kissed him with barbecue scented salt lips and duly reciprocated.

* * *

About six months later on an ordinary weekday evening, Ziggy was having a moderately successful poker night at the club. No meeting with Finn was scheduled for another week, and Ziggy's mind flitted between his hand and a series of annoying burglaries he couldn't seem to solve.

Then one of the regular players, Dan, appeared and exclaimed as he slid into a seat at the table, "Hey, there was a fight downstairs."

Ziggy inwardly sighed, hoping he wouldn't have to be involved.

"Chris headbutted a guy," Dan continued with excitement. "Someone said he was Edward's ex."

Interesting. The poker table hummed in appreciation, and someone asked, "Edward has an ex? Chris got jealous?"

"Apparently." Dan shrugged off his coat. "Blond guy. Good looking. Broken nose, now. He had two steroid-freak friends with him, Bob threw them all out."

Ziggy relaxed on hearing that Bob had dealt with it. Ziggy had the utmost respect for Chris's club manager, who was an ex-Marine and had also been a cop for a while in a previous existence. Bob had abs of steel and a will of iron.

The poker game continued for a while, amidst idle discussion as to whether anyone had heard about the ex before (nobody had; Ziggy was careful not to mention the violent abusive ex that Linus had once indiscreetly told him about) and whether this was the first time Chris had ever displayed jealousy (consensus was yes, and Ziggy was in full agreement).

Suddenly Bob was there at Ziggy's side.

"Officer Bowie." The choice of name said it all; _emergency_. Ziggy took one glance at Bob's face, dropped his cards on the table, and rose to his feet. Bob headed toward the stairs and down, Ziggy following.

"Chris and Edward left to go home about ten minutes ago. A guy came in just now to say he saw a young man with dark hair and glasses struggling with three other men in the parking lot, outside a white van," Bob explained as they walked.

"Edward." Ziggy sucked in his breath at this description, and the mention of three men. The ex and the steroid-freak friends. He put a hand to his belt for his gun. "And Chris?"

"Not answering his cell," Bob said in a grim tone, as they got to the front door of the club and headed out into the parking lot.

Chris was in the habit of parking out back in a space he could see from his office window, and Bob and Ziggy went in that direction without needing to discuss it. They arrived to find Chris's car was still there. As they paused, hesitating, Ziggy spotted something glittering in the dark on the ground, and stopped to pick it up. A Harley Davidson key chain.

"Fuck," Bob muttered. Chris's keys.

"White van," Ziggy said, gesturing to the far corner of the parking lot.

They broke into a half-run as they approached, and if Ziggy had any doubt at all that his friends were in big trouble, it dissipated when Bob spotted Edward's spectacles on the blacktop a few feet from the van.

"Police! Open this door, _now!"_ Ziggy hammered briefly on the van door. Then Bob grabbed the handle and wrenched it with all his might; the handle creaked briefly then gave way, and Bob pulled the door wide open. Ziggy leaped up into the van, gun in hand.

He saw Chris first, lying on the floor with a blurred, unfocused expression, fully clothed but straddled by an absurdly muscle-bound man who was undoubtedly one of the steroid freaks; and a few feet away Edward, white-faced and shaking, on all fours with his jeans pulled down around his knees, looking even more naked without his glasses than he actually was. The second steroid-freak was pinning his wrists, and a blond poster boy was right behind him with his dick in hand.

They'd arrived just in time.

"What the fuck!" one of the steroid freaks shouted.

As Ziggy covered them all with his gun, Bob clambered into the van and smacked the blond poster boy in the face, breaking his nose for the second time that night.

* * *

Ziggy had never witnessed a clearer case of attempted rape in his life, but that didn't actually help when it came to putting the perps away. Investigation of the van led him to a conclusion that he took to his boss, a guy called Larry.

"Inter-state violent crime?" Larry looked dubious as he flicked through paperwork. "I thought we were going to get them on drug charges?"

"There were drugs in the van, but it would be difficult to get them on more than possession. The videos found in the van show actual violent crime. At first I thought it was local, but now it looks like they used the vehicle for a road trip starting in Florida, working their way up the coast," Ziggy explained. "They were heading for New York, where one of them lives. They kept a camera inside the van, above the back doors, to film their fun along the way. The tapes show at about a dozen instances of their M.O., repeatedly drugging young men to get them in the van, and assaulting them. Some very young men, possibly underage, assaulted while unconscious."

His boss drummed his fingers on the desk. "And how many of these crimes happened in New Jersey?"

"Hard to say," Ziggy said honestly. "There's not always anything on the tape to show where they were. The most recent was in Atlantic City; at one point they talk about their bad luck at the roulette wheel there. I talked to the Atlantic City cops but they didn't have any report of the crime. As you know, sir, male rape is often not reported to authorities."

"Yeah" Larry said dryly. "Your vics aren't pressing charges, I hear."

"Yeah." Neither Chris nor Edward had any wish to face Preston in court, a position which Ziggy privately fully supported, although wasn't able to say. "However, there are at least two crimes which happened in Palm Beach, Florida, which the police authorities there do have on their books as unsolved cases." Ziggy had good contacts in Palm Beach. 

"That sounds good," Larry agreed.

"Also a case in D.C., for definite. And a possible one in Norfolk, Virginia, an underage victim," Ziggy recited. "I think further investigation piecing together a proper timeline of this van journey might yield other results."

"So you want to throw it over to the Feds." Larry's face was glum; giving a case to the Feds meant losing any potential credit and recognition.

"Of course not, but I think, sir, it may be the only way to get the perps behind bars," Ziggy said carefully. "The ringleader, Preston, is a psychopath who will just go out and do it again if he gets away with it now. We could toss them at Florida, or D.C., or Virginia, but the strength of the case is the whole picture and not just individual incidents."

He trusted his boss to be fair-minded; Larry was one of the least homophobic cops Ziggy had ever met, and Ziggy knew he wouldn't let a rapist go loose just because he preyed on men rather than women.

"Let's do it. The chief'll have to make the call; I'll brief him." Larry scooped the paperwork towards him, and Ziggy inwardly sighed with relief.

* * *

Ziggy didn't dare tip Finn off, apart from a, "Hey, I've gotta case might come your way," remark at the end of one phone conversation. 

"I'll keep an eye out," Finn batted back immediately, without asking for details. Ziggy was relieved; he didn't want to disclose what had happened to Chris and Edward unless it was professionally necessary.

And a couple of days later, Ziggy got a heads-up from the front desk. "Hey, there's a Fed on the way up to see you. The one without tits, worse luck."

Hurrah! Ziggy was genuinely pleased, but careful to keep his face schooled in a polite but not overly friendly expression when Finn walked in the room a few minutes later. 

Finn was the stereotypical stoical suited federal agent. "Detective Bowie? I hear you've got a case for us."

"Agent Massey, let's go talk in an interview room. We can watch the videos there." Ziggy picked up the box of case paperwork and headed out of the squad room. Finn followed him into Interview Room 1, the least scummy of the station interview rooms, which was free. Ziggy checked to make sure the cameras and recording equipment were definitely off, and that nobody was lurking behind the one-way glass.

"Good to see you," Finn said, his voice carefully neutral, as they sat down at the table.

"And you," Ziggy said formally, and moved straight on to brief Finn on the case. He described the events at the club in as detached a manner as possible, and Finn responded in kind. Finn's professional mask only slipped when Ziggy mentioned the name of the vic.

"This is _Edward?_ " Finn asked. "Your friend? The guy I met?" 

"That's him," Ziggy confirmed. "And the perp, Preston, is an ex-boyfriend of his from college. It was an abusive relationship." 

He'd learned more about this now, and what Linus had previously let slip had been accurate. The psycho-in-training Preston had preyed on a young, naive Edward and treated him like shit. 

They talked through the various statements and background, and Ziggy showed Finn edited highlights (lowlights, rather) from the videos, explaining his contact with the police departments in other states, and the picture of events he'd managed to put together.

"We can do this," was Finn's eventual conclusion. "We can track that van properly across state lines, no problem. If we can get co-operation from the other police departments we can nail them for at least some of the crimes, and maybe identify some that you couldn't."

"Great." Ziggy was genuinely relieved. "You can take all this paperwork then, and the videos--'

They were interrupted by the phone at the side of the room. Ziggy went to pick it up, and it was the reception desk again. "Hey, Ziggy, there's a guy called Edward here to see you. You wanna see him?"

Edward! Ziggy couldn't have been more surprised. "Uh, okay. I'll be down in a sec."

He put the phone down and said to Finn, "Edward's downstairs. Must be about this case. I'll bring him in here, if you want to watch." He nodded towards the one-way glass.

Finn nodded, and when Ziggy returned to the room with Edward a few minutes later, the case files and videos were neatly stacked on the side and Finn was nowhere to be seen.

"Sorry this isn't more welcoming, Edward, we're kinda short of meeting spaces here." Ziggy indicated to Edward to sit. He pulled a chair sideways on, so as not to make it across-the-table confrontational.

"That's okay." Edward sat hunched up, spectacles high on his nose, mouth downturned. "Ziggy, I want to press charges against Preston."

That...was unexpected. Ziggy sat back in his chair and pondered the implications. "What does Chris think?"

"He doesn't know I'm here. I thought I'd talk to you first."

"Why have you changed your mind?"

"Because I can't stand the thought he might get away with it," Edward said immediately. "I know you said you thought you could get him on other charges in other states, but if that's complicated, I don't want him to go free in New Jersey. I don't want to have him walking around, he might come back to the club, he might abduct someone else."

"That's all very laudable, Edward, but lemme play the defence attorney for a sec." Ziggy leaned even further back in his chair, tipping the front legs off the floor, and affected a cynical tone. "Edward, I understand you were previously in a sexual relationship with the accused. Is that correct?"

Edward colored. "At college, yes. We were young, it was a long time ago--"

"You were together for almost a year, I believe?" Ziggy cut in.

"It was an abusive relationship." Edward spoke in the tone of a realisation gained in therapy.

"A sexual relationship characterised by physical violence, that's what I'm hearing. Are you saying you were in a relationship against your will, Edward? An intelligent college-educated young man such as yourself couldn't get out of this relationship, and this went on for a year?" Ziggy's tone curdled.

"He was my first. I didn't know any better. I thought I loved him--"

"And then he dumped you. You loved him, now you hate him. Maybe he was just trying to resurrect this relationship, with its physical violence?" Ziggy didn't pause for an answer. "Edward, I understand you're now in a relationship with another man, is that correct?"

Edward's cheeks flamed. "I am."

"And is that sexually violent, may I ask?" Ziggy heard Finn's voice shout _Objection!_ in his head, and changed tack. "Strike that last question. I understand you're not only in a sexual relationship with another man, but you're also married, Edward. To a woman. Now I'm a little confused here. Are you also a little confused? Confused to the point of mistaking a physical come-on from your ex for attempted rape--"

Edward raised his hands and bowed his head. "I get it, Ziggy. It couldn't go to court."

"Don't take it personally." Ziggy dropped the lawyer's voice and sat forward in his chair. "This is why so few rape cases even make it to trial. If it's not a stranger on the street, if there's any prior knowledge at all, it's the devil's own job to prove it's non-consensual."

"I should have realized." Edward rubbed his eyes. "I can hardly explain it all to Chris, let alone anyone else."

Ziggy sighed. "We can still get Preston, Edward. Just not for the attack on yourself and Chris. Leave it to the feds, Edward."

"Leave it to the feds? What if they screw up? How will I know?" Edward's voice rose. "If the first I hear is when Preston turns up on my doorstep with a knife--"

"That's not going to happen. I will keep informed and make sure--"

"You can't possibly make sure of anything!" Edward accused. "It's out of your hands. And you don't trust the feds, you've never had a good word to say about them, how do you know they'll tell you what's happening?"

Aware of Finn on the other side of the mirror, Ziggy felt his own cheeks burn. "Edward, please... trust me."

It sounded feeble. Ziggy searched for something more reassuring, but failed.

And suddenly the door opened, and in came Finn. Edward looked up first in surprise and then with recognition, and his jaw dropped. Ziggy tensed, unsure what was happening.

"Edward, I am Special Agent Fintan Massey," Finn said, his voice at its maximum tone of federal authority. "You have my word I will be keeping Detective Bowie here informed of what's happened. I will do my utmost to bring Preston and his colleagues to justice. If I have anything to do with it, they'll get ten years minimum."

"Uh... thank you, Agent--um--Massey," Edward stuttered a little under Ziggy's glare.

"You're very welcome," Finn said, his voice cracking a little. He turned abruptly on his heel and left the room.

Edward looked at Ziggy with wide eyes. Ziggy shook his head ever so slightly; _not now_. He waited a minute, then got up and walked out of the room, gesturing to Edward to follow. As they walked, Ziggy began to realize what a major gesture that had been for Finn to make; to open himself up to Edward in that way, not knowing what reaction he would get...

"Ziggy," Edward whispered once they were a few steps away down the corridor. "That was your-- he's--"

"Not a word to anyone, Edward!" Ziggy was stern. "Not even Chris. That's really important."

"Oh, absolutely, cross my heart." Edward swiped a hand across his chest. "Thanks, Ziggy. I--I trust you."

"Thanks, and you're very welcome," Ziggy said gruffly.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The story of Ziggy, Linus's cop friend in the Chris 'verse, and the love of his life. Part 3: Finn meets Linus; Ziggy and Finn meet a new friend of Linus's called Jeremy, and Finn has bad news.
> 
> Excerpt: "Ziggy, it's your Significant Other!" Linus exclaimed. "All these years I've been teasing you about him, I always thought it was only fifty-fifty he existed... and he does! And I get to speak to him!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parallels a section of [Linus the Fairy Godmother](https://archiveofourown.org/works/68183/chapters/89983) in the Chris/Edward story.

Ziggy opened his eyes and stared up at a blank white ceiling. Could have been home--but this wasn't home. He never woke up at home feeling this dopey and numb, not even after a serious drinking session the night before--

The stink of alcohol. Adrenalin shot through his system as he remembered; the demented father pouring vodka over his head, the click of the cigarette lighter, the kids screaming in the car, the barking dog--

He couldn't feel his hands. Panic coursed through Ziggy's veins as he strove to tip his chin downward and raise his arms. Thank God. Yes he still had hands. They were wrapped in swathes of bandages, but definitely hand-shaped bandage.

"Hey, you're awake!" A familiar-looking white-coated man beamed down from above. "Welcome back. You've been under some time."

"Where am I?" Ziggy croaked, his throat dry as dust.

"Princeton Plainsboro Hospital. You had a bit of an accident at work--"

"I remember." Ziggy remembered everything now. "He didn't want to be arrested, and he set fire to himself. I pushed him over and burned my hands."

"And he knocked your head on the cement garage floor, and caused a concussion. You have second degree burns on your hands. They'll heal, but they'd be hurting like hell if you weren't dosed up on some serious painkillers. Now if you'll just let me do some tests..."

"Wilson, what are you doing?" a new voice demanded. Ziggy twisted his neck to see a tall man with a scowl. He had a stethoscope draped around his neck, but no white coat. "We have a date. With Gravedigger. And this is not the Oncology ward."

"You know the ER is short-handed and Cuddy asked for volunteers," the doctor called Wilson said patiently. "You should have volunteered too, House. Now if you'll just let me finish..."

Ziggy submitted to being poked and prodded, and answering questions about his name and who the President was. He looked around the room a little as he did so; he was in a private room with glass walls, although blinds covered most of the view. He ignored the attempts of the guy called House to tell him that Abraham Lincoln had been shot last week, and instead tried to figure out why Wilson looked familiar.

"Can I go home?" Ziggy asked at the end. "I feel fine. I mean, considering." That was a lie, he felt like crap, but Ziggy had no wish to stay in hospital a moment longer than usual. 

"Sucker for punishment," said House. "You're a cop. You have the right to remain silent. Lie back and eat some donuts."

"We need to observe you a bit longer following that concussion. Also, you're running a fever." Dr. Wilson tapped a chart. "Be patient. Put your feet up and relax for a couple days. You had plenty of visitors earlier, they'll be back to see you."

"Oh?"

"A bunch of your fellow cops, who left the box of donuts there, they told me to tell you that you're definitely stupid and not brave." Ziggy inwardly smiled. Wilson ticked off on his fingers. "Your sister who lives in Delaware who said Mom tells you to be more careful next time." Ziggy outwardly smiled. 

"And a fat guy in a Hawaiian shirt was just here," House chipped in. "Your golfing buddy? Said he waited an hour at the links for you yesterday and you are so dead when you wake up."

"Aw, shit." Ziggy was sorry to hear Linus had been left waiting. 

And suddenly he remembered Finn. Panic rose in his chest. Finn would have missed him--Finn would have expected a call yesterday--Finn might have been trying to call him--

He had to call Finn. But how? There was a telephone on the nightstand, but he couldn't use his hands.

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask the doctors to make a phone call for him. But asking a complete stranger to speak to Finn stuck in his craw. 

"Mr Hawaiian shirt's still here," House remarked. "I can see that shirt a mile off, he's over at the coffee machine."

Linus could make the call. Ziggy breathed again. "Can I see him?"

"Sure, we'll send him in," Wilson said easily. "Talk to you later, Officer Bowie."

As Wilson turned to go, Ziggy suddenly realized why he looked familiar; he looked rather like Edward, but without glasses. Huh. Ziggy wondered if Edward had any relatives in Princeton. He didn't think so.

House stomped off the other way, apparently toward the coffee machine as a minute later Linus appeared from the same direction. He chattered away as he sat down next to the bed.

"Ziggy! How wonderful to see you. That doctor was terribly rude and he just stole my cappuccino right out of my hand, but I'm so glad you're awake and receiving visitors. You'll have to tell me all about what happened. It sounds terrifying. What a job you have, dealing with criminals like that, setting fire to themselves--"

"Yeah, later. Linus." Ziggy struggled to keep his voice strong. "I need a favor."

"Anything, Ziggy sweetheart, anything," Linus declared.

"I need you to make a phone call for me."

"Of course." Eyebrow raise. "Now let's see, what phone call might you want to make? Your family already knows what happened, and your work colleagues..."

Ziggy closed his eyes and waited for the realization.

"Ziggy, it's your Significant Other!" Linus exclaimed. "All these years I've been teasing you about him, I always thought it was only fifty-fifty he existed... and he does! And I get to speak to him!"

"Whoa, whoa!" Ziggy was alarmed. "You get to dial. You get to hold the phone up to my ear. That's it. No chit chat."

"No chit chat," Linus agreed solemnly, and fished his cell out of his pocket. "Number?"

Ziggy recited the number, which he knew by heart and always had. Linus dialled and held the receiver to Ziggy's ear. But as the ring tone stopped and Finn's voice said a cautious, "Hello?" Linus whisked it away.

"Hey!" Ziggy shouted.

"Hello," Linus said into the phone, as Ziggy glared daggers and twitched his bandaged hands. "My name is Linus and I'm calling on behalf of my good friend Ziggy. I just wanted to say hi and let you know I'm delighted to talk to you at last."

"Uh..." There was a slight pause. "Is Ziggy okay?"

"Why yes, he's had an accident and he can't use his hands right now, but nothing life-threatening, no dreadful injuries," Linus chattered briskly, and Ziggy squeezed his eyes shut in despair. "He's right here, despairing of me. Hold on."

He returned the receiver to Ziggy's ear. Ziggy opened his eyes enough to give Linus the best death-glare he could muster, then said rather sheepishly, "Finn? It's me."

"Ziggy, what's wrong? I've been really worried," Finn blurted out, and Ziggy felt a hand clutching at his heart.

"I'm sorry I couldn't call you before. I was in a fire. I'm in a hospital, but it's not serious. It'll just take some time to heal and I've got these giant bandages on my hands which mean I can't do a fucking thing--"

"A _fire?"_ Finn demanded. "What the hell?"

Ziggy explained a little more about what had happened. Linus sat back holding the phone at arms' length, and winked at him periodically.

"What hospital are you at?" Finn asked at the end.

"You're not coming to visit. There's no need--" Ziggy began.

Linus yanked the telephone back and said, "Princeton Plainsboro, visiting hours are eleven in the morning ‘til nine at night."

"Linus!" Ziggy yelled, and dashed the receiver from Linus's hands with his bandaged mitts.

* * *

Ziggy told Linus very firmly that he was not gonna meet the voice on the phone, but knew inwardly that Linus was unlikely to be satisfied with that. Finn appeared the following afternoon, wearing dark glasses and clutching a gift box of candy, to Ziggy's amusement. 

"Hey. No donuts?"

"I wanted to bring beer, but didn't think I could get away with it in a hospital." Finn sat down, opened the box, took a caramel and popped it in Ziggy's mouth. Ziggy grinned as he sucked on it, then swallowed, and they passed several minutes happily working their way through the layer.

"How're you getting on?" Finn asked.

"Alright." Ziggy hadn't seen either Dr. House or Dr. Wilson after the first time, the ICU doctors had rallied around to dress his hands and take his temperature. "Lots of visitors. Half the squad room came this morning, good of them to make it all the way to Princeton." He added in a casual tone, "You didn't have to come."

"Become a hero, end up in hospital, 'course I had to come." Finn was equally offhand.

Ziggy wasn't comfortable with that. "I'm no hero."

"I pulled the report by your partner who was there. You saved four kids and their pet puppy by tackling their meths-soaked father before he set fire to the car with them all in it," Finn recited. "Soaked in both senses of the word. Commendations galore for Officer Bowie and a nice boost for your promotion prospects next time around."

Ziggy could think of nothing to say except, "You shouldn't be able to pull our reports."

"Nope," Finn said with a grin, and offered a chocolate truffle.

Suddenly Linus burst in the door. "Good afternoon, Ziggy, how are you today? Oh, so sorry, I didn't realize you had a visitor!"

His fucking so-called friend was the hammiest old queen _ever_. Ziggy could do nothing but swallow the candy and glower, as Linus approached Finn and stuck out his hand. "My apologies for interrupting. I think we spoke on the phone yesterday. My name is Linus, and you are?..."

Ziggy saw Finn hesitate, and guessed he was wondering whether to give the Robert Stapleton pseudonym. But instead he said, "Fintan Massey. Pleased to meet you."

Whew! A real name admission, that was quite something. Ziggy found himself quite ridiculously pleased. Finn and Linus embarked on a brief polite conversation, and Ziggy sat watching and listening with great interest.

"You're in law enforcement too?" Linus asked at one point, and Finn merely smiled and nodded, not mentioning the Fed thing. Linus made the obvious assumption. "Ah, a fellow cop. How cute, love among the handcuffs and donut boxes."

"I don't eat donuts," Finn said.

"Of course not, or you wouldn't have that marvellous physique." Linus rolled his eyes admiringly down Finn's body. "Fintan Massey, I will go now and leave you in peace. It's been a pleasure."

"Likewise." Finn sounded sheepish.

* * *

A couple of months on, Ziggy's hands had healed nicely, and everything was back to normal. One weekend he and Finn found their usual hotel meeting place had been booked out for a golf tournament, so Finn made the trip down to the Jersey coast. They spent a very pleasant sunny afternoon on the beach, sunbathing and indulging in a spot of mini-golf which amused them both.

Finn sent the last little ball spinning into the hole, punched the air in mock triumph to applause from Ziggy, and mopped his brow. "I need a cold drink."

Ziggy had a bright idea. "Let's drop in on Linus, he lives just a few blocks from here. I'm sure he'd love to see you again, nosey bastard that he is."

Linus lived in a large and elaborate custom-built house with an extensive garden at the back. Ziggy parked at the back out of habit; there was a gate there to which he knew the access code (having recommended the security company to Linus, and then overseen the installation). 

The end of the garden around the gate was rather overgrown. They trudged up a slope to approach the house through trees, and then Ziggy stopped dead. Linus was sunning himself on a lounger by the pool, no surprise there. But on the next lounger was a young man; skinny and dark-haired and... _how_ young?

"Who's the boy?" Finn asked, over his shoulder.

Finn's choice of words made Ziggy's heart sink. "Dunno. Linus hasn't introduced us. I hope there isn't a reason for that."

Finn frowned, computing. "You're not telling me he's.... into boys."

"He's not a pedophile," Ziggy jumped to defend his friend quickly. "He doesn't go for prepubescents. But he... does go for late teens. He likes that _barely legal_ look."

"Ephebophilia," Finn supplied, and as Ziggy looked at him blankly, Finn added, "Sexual preference for mid to late adolescents."

Fucking great, there was a name for it. Very helpful. Ziggy mentally eyerolled as he admitted, "Sometimes I worry that they may not be legal after all. Day I first met him, he'd taken a fifteen year old into his house, who looked older. His father turned up and blew a hole in the ceiling with a shotgun."

"Statutory rape?" Finn queried. 

Ziggy shook his head. "No, Linus never touched the boy, thank God. No charges."

"Then don't jump to conclusions," Finn advised, peering through the trees. "Anyway, this one looks sixteen to me. Old enough to consent, in this state. He could even be eighteen."

"Maybe." But Ziggy knew something was wrong, or Linus would have mentioned him. "Look, let's go back to the road and I'll call Linus and tell him we're coming to visit. We'll see if we get introduced or not."

"If you say so." Finn followed Ziggy back down the garden, and Ziggy made a call on his cell, telling Linus that he and Finn were outside and could do with a cold drink. Linus professed himself delighted to see them, and they trooped back up the garden again.

Linus hauled himself off the sun lounger as they approached, beaming. But Ziggy couldn't smile back, because the boy had vanished.

"Where is he, Linus?" Ziggy asked abruptly.

"Who?" Linus looked startled.

"The young man who was here with you by the pool a minute ago."

"Oh! You saw him." Linus dropped his eyes and Ziggy feared the worse. "His name's Jeremy. He's...staying with me for a while."

"Oh yeah? And why haven't you mentioned him before?"

"I didn't realize I had to tell you about all my house guests, Officer," Linus said peevishly.

"Don't jerk me around, Linus!" Ziggy felt his anger rising. "Is he a minor?"

"He's seventeen, and he's run away from home," Linus burst out. "That's why I didn't mention him."

A fucking runaway. School being cut. Parents potentially on the warpath. Ziggy could feel steam coming out of his ears. All this in front of Finn, too.

Finn, however, seemed to be taking events briskly in his stride. "What's he running away _from_?" 

Linus threw him a look of gratitude, but Ziggy was in no mood to indulge crap. "What the hell does that matter? Linus, if you're fucking a runaway schoolboy--"

"He's not," a new voice chimed in, thin and reedy. 

Everyone looked around to see Jeremy in the doorway to the house, his cheeks pink and his face pale.

"If you've come to arrest me, then arrest me, but don't blame Linus," Jeremy stammered over his words. "He's only trying to help me."

Ziggy found himself temporarily without words, but Finn stepped effortlessly into the breach. "Ziggy and I were really hoping for a cold drink on this hot day, Linus. Perhaps you could go get us some iced water or something, while we have a little chat with Jeremy."

Linus was on his feet instantly. "What a splendid suggestion. I have fresh lemonade on ice."

"Perfect, thank you." Finn was the epitome of politeness.

Linus vanished into the house, and Finn said smoothly, "Why don't we all sit down?"

Ziggy dropped into the nearest chair. Finn perched on a sun lounger, gesturing for Jeremy to sit on the one opposite. Jeremy did so, then repeated, "If you've come to arrest me--"

"We didn't come here to arrest anyone," Finn said, his voice friendly and neutral. "We came for a cold drink. My name is Fintan, and this is Ziggy, he's an old friend of Linus's."

Ziggy noticed Finn had given his real name, but then of course Linus knew it.

"But you're cops, right?" Jeremy asked.

"We're not on duty right now," Finn assured him. "How did you come to stay with Linus, Jeremy?"

Jeremy didn't say anything for a minute, then muttered, "I ran away from boot camp."

"What, summer camp?" Finn asked jovially. "Isn't that fun? Tents and campfires and--"

"No." Jeremy's voice was suddenly louder. "Boot camp, where they were trying to cure me."

"Cure you of what?" And as Finn voiced the question, suddenly Ziggy knew what Jeremy meant, and he felt his stomach lurch. Finn clearly realized too, as his voice faltered as he went on, "You mean... being gay."

"Yeah." Jeremy's voice was quiet again. 

Finn bit his lip, then asked, "Can you tell us about it, Jeremy? I know you probably don't want to, but we'd like to try and understand."

"My parents call it conversion therapy." Jeremy stared at his feet. "It wasn't too bad at the start, lots of lectures, lots of preaching, playing sports. Lots of praying. I couldn't get into that. But it went on, and on, and on. They could see it wasn't making any difference to me, so they put me into different sessions. They put this-- _thing_ \--with wires on my head and showed me..."

His voice faltered, and he stopped and swallowed hard. Ziggy and Finn waited.

"They showed me pictures in magazines, men without any clothes on. Gay porn mags," Jeremy said in a rush. "And each time they showed me one, they gave me an electric shock. And they showed me pictures of women too, but they didn't shock me then. Over and over again. I thought--I thought I would die. I wanted to die."

Silence.

"I told them I wanted to die, and that was a mistake. They put me in a little white room with padded walls, and took away almost all my clothes." Jeremy was forlorn. "I had to pretend I didn't want to die after all before they would let me out."

"Where was this, Jeremy?" Finn asked.

"Mississippi. I don't know exactly where--a couple of hours drive from where I live. Lived." Jeremy corrected himself. "You don't have any jurisdiction as cops in other states, do you?"

"I do," Finn said evenly, and Ziggy smiled inwardly at this admission of being a federal agent. "How did you get here, Jeremy?"

"I escaped. That was awesome." Jeremy brightened up, apparently reveling in his moment of power. "They let me out to play baseball. They liked to get us to play sports. It's masculine or something. I chased the ball out of left field and suddenly I saw there was a gate open for a delivery truck. And I got the ball and threw it back, and then I turned and ran and ran and ran right out of the gate."

"Cool," said Finn.

"Yeah. Except I had nothing with me." Jeremy deflated a little. "No money, no clothes 'cept the tracksuit pants and T-shirt I was wearing."

"So what did you do?" Ziggy was sucked into the story despite himself.

"I hid in the truck for a couple of days and I ate the stuff they were delivering, raw fruit and veg mostly." Jeremy pulled a face. "I heard the driver say he was going to the East Coast, and I decided I'd try and get to New York. I thought if I could get to a big city, I could vanish and my parents would never find me, and I could be free, and be who I want to be."

Ziggy and Finn were both silent for a minute.

Eventually Finn prompted, "So how'd you end up on the New Jersey shore?"

"I left the first truck 'cause it was going south, and I--um--hitched a couple of times." Jeremy looked a little cagey, and Ziggy guessed they weren't hearing the full story. 

"Then I got to a gas station somewhere near here," Jeremy continued, and now Ziggy knew they weren't hearing the full story. The local gas station was a notorious cruising spot and exactly the right place for an attractive young man to earn some quick hard cash. "Linus found me and bought me a hot dog. It was the best thing I ever tasted in my whole life. And he took me home, and when I told him where I'd come from, he let me stay."

"And that's it?" Finn asked. "He just let you stay?"

"Yes." Jeremy sat up straight and looked directly at Finn for the first time. "I told him he could fuck me if he wanted, I'm old enough, but he won't. He hasn't laid a finger on me."

Hallelujah, Ziggy believed Jeremy was speaking the truth, and he could see that Finn did too. He was pleased that his friend was not behaving as sleazily as it had first appeared.

"So if you want to arrest me, arrest me, but not him," Jeremy concluded. He stuck out his arms, inviting handcuffs.

And Ziggy, sitting to one side, sucked in his breath at the sight of scars on the undersides of Jeremy's left wrist. Finn, seeing Ziggy's face, caught hold of Jeremy's hands and flipped them over. There were old faded white scars running straight up the arm, and newer red welts slashed diagonally across the top, healed but ugly. 

Finn looked down, then up, then dropped Jeremy's hands and said, "We're not arresting anyone today."

"Well that is good news," Linus rumbled from the side, and as they all looked up at him, he put a tray down on the table containing a large pitcher of lemonade and four glasses.

"But perhaps we could have a word, Linus," Ziggy said, dry as dust.

"I have to pee." Jeremy took his cue, pouring himself a glass of lemonade and vanishing into the house.

"He might be old enough to consent, Linus, but he's still a minor. That means he doesn't get to decide where he wants to stay," Ziggy said, picking up the pitcher. "If he's been abused, he doesn't have to go back to Mom and Pop. There are shelters."

" _I_ know he's been abused, _you_ know he's been abused, is that what a judge is gonna say?" Linus demanded. "Surely his loving Mom and Pop wanted only what was best for their son. They probably spent a small fortune getting him this treatment to save him from monsters like me. Who's to say he isn't going to be sent straight back home?"

Ziggy was silent. 

"And if not, how'd you think he'd fare in an institution?" Linus pushed. "Those shelters are full to overflowing. He's terribly emotionally fragile. I'm spending a lot of time telling him he's a good person because his self-esteem is shot to pieces. You spend years telling someone they're bad and they're going to hell, they start confused and they end up hating themselves. You saw those scars. He'll end up back on the street in no time, or hanging at the end of a rope."

Finn sipped lemonade and asked, "So what's your plan, Linus?"

"He'll be eighteen in five months time," Linus explained. "I know that's true; he has a plastic tag with his name and date of birth on it that he had to wear in the camp. He cut it off his wrist after he escaped, but he kept it. If I can just look after him until then, he can do what he wants and the parents can go to hell. He wants to live in New York, I can help him get a place to live there, and a job."

Finn looked at Ziggy, who shrugged helplessly. 

"I'll tell you what I think," Finn said slowly. "I think maybe Ziggy and I never met Jeremy today. I think we're gonna go away from here none the wiser that he even exists. Maybe we'll hear about him and what he's doing in six months or so."

"Fintan Massey, you are a gentleman," Linus exclaimed, his tone joyful and relieved. "I cannot tell you how grateful I am, for darling Jeremy's sake."

"I suggest you carry on keeping your hands off him." Finn put the empty glass down. "Legal or not legal, if the shit hits the fan, it would help if you can play the soft-hearted pure-minded rescuer with a clear conscience. Thanks for the lemonade."

"You're very welcome," Linus said devotedly. "So nice to see you again, Finn."

Ziggy and Finn headed off back down the garden. When they were out of earshot, Ziggy said, "He's not gonna keep his hands off Jeremy, you know."

"No?"

"No." Ziggy knew Linus far too well to believe this for a minute. "He's the world's worst horndog. Five months alone in a house with a cute gay teen who thinks the world of him? No way." 

Ziggy could picture it already. Linus might well have the best of intentions, but there would be a moment; Jeremy dozing on the couch, emerging from a shower, bending over the kitchen sink--it would happen.

"Well, it's not like he'll be popping the cherry," Finn opined. "Young Jeremy didn't hitch his way here by smiling nicely and making entertaining conversation."

"No," Ziggy agreed, relieved Finn had picked up on that too. "What d'ya make of that camp stuff? Sounds like a freaking nightmare."

"It is. I did reorientation therapy once." Finn wouldn't look at Ziggy. "Not in a camp. I referred myself to a counselor in college, after I'd been dumped by my fiancee. Thought I had to fix myself before that kind of thing happened again."

"Really!" They had gotten back to the gate at the end of the garden, and stopped walking.

"Yeah. I let people assume I was just seeing a regular shrink for stress, but instead I submitted to lots of bullshit about why I was attracted to men because of events in my childhood, and how I could change that." Finn rested a palm against the gate. "I went every week for a year, before I realized I was even more screwed up and depressed than when I started. I might have been the one slashing my wrists if I'd kept going."

Fucking hell. Ziggy could barely comprehend.

"I'm glad you stopped," he said at last.

"Me too. Or I wouldn't be here doing this." Finn turned and dipped his head for a kiss.

It was cool and shady down the end of the garden, and they stood there in a hug for some time.

* * *

Ziggy spent the next six months trying not to think about Jeremy, holed up in Linus's house, and mostly failing. 

He thought about taking Jeremy away, but the possibility of being responsible for him being sent back to the camp, or back to the parents who had put him there, left bile in his mouth. He couldn't have that on his conscience. He couldn't guarantee a sympathetic judge. Even if he could, he couldn't guarantee a place in a decent shelter.

But he also didn't believe for one moment that Linus would keep his hands off his young companion. He knew his friend far too well. 

Fuck it. It was the least bad solution.

Somehow he managed not to ask Linus about Jeremy for six months. It helped that Finn didn't talk about Jeremy either; he seemed indeed to have forgotten, although Ziggy was sure he hadn't. They were all engaged in a silent conspiracy to protect the young man at the center.

And then there came a golfing afternoon where Linus remarked with the utmost nonchalance just as Ziggy was about to tee off, "I've been meaning to tell you, Ziggy, about a friend of mine who's just moved to New York."

Ziggy took his time hitting the ball straight before replying carefully, "New York, eh?"

"Good shot. His name is Jeremy, very nice young man. I helped him find an apartment and a job," Linus said blithely. "You remember my theater friend, Lucien?"

Ziggy laughed at that. "How could I forget the poets." 

Lucien owned an off-off-off-Broadway theater which hosted a ragged succession of short runs of obscure alternative plays, gigs by peculiarly discordant bands, and strange productions of modern dance. Ziggy wasn't the theater-going type, but he'd been dragged there once by Linus to see an evening of poets orating a range of eccentric works.

"Indeed. Anyway, Lucien's given Jeremy a job as all-round errand boy," Linus said happily. "It's early days but I have hopes it will work out well. Jeremy loves the theater; the smell of greasepaint, the roar of the crowd..."

"Excellent. Maybe I can meet him sometime." Ziggy squinted into sunlight.

"I am sure he would like that. Maybe he could meet one of your friends too." Linus's meaning was clear.

"Maybe."

* * *

But before Ziggy could arrange for himself and Finn to meet Jeremy, something else happened. Finn called to fix a meeting at short notice; most unusual. Ziggy traveled to their usual hotel with a sense of trepidation. Something was in the air.

Finn greeted him in their preferred room with a deep kiss, a brief hug, and major news. "I'm being transferred out of Newark."

Ziggy had been expecting this at some point. It was part of the deal for Feds; they had to be willing to work anywhere the Bureau sent them. He hoped it wasn't too far; somewhere else on the east coast, in the same time zone, would make life a lot easier. But it could be anywhere; he envisaged a long-distance relationship if Finn got sent to Alaska, or Hawaii... "Where?"

"I can't tell you." Finn's expression was taut. "I'm not just being moved to another office, I'm going to an undercover role."

_"What?"_ Ziggy couldn't believe it. He remembered Finn's fake ID. "You mean you're going to be Robert Stapleton again?"

"No, it'll be a whole new identity. I'll be working in a company we're investigating, so I can see how it works on the inside. Look." Finn swallowed hard. "I won't be able to see you, or even speak to you on the phone."

Ziggy still couldn't believe it. "You're going undercover and you can't stay in touch with me at all? Surely you can make phone calls! Are your employers at your evil company going to be spying on you?"

"Maybe not, but my FBI handlers might be listening in," Finn's voice cracked a little. "They'll be keeping a close eye on me, as my backup. They won't care if I call my Mom once in a while, but they don't know about you. They can't know about you."

Fucking hell. Full realization dawned; Ziggy was a victim of Finn's secrecy and closeted-ness. 

"So, that's it?" Ziggy said at last. "Wham bam, off undercover, and bye bye forever?"

"It could be for a few months or it could be longer." Finn's tone was the epitome of miserable. "I don't expect you to wait for me. But, I would like to wait for you."

Ziggy felt a lump in his throat. "I would like to wait for you too."

There was a pause. Ziggy realized they'd never said _I love you_ , but now they didn't need to.

"Awesome." Finn's voice was a mere whisper now.

"What... what if something happens to you?" Ziggy asked, a trifle diffident but uneasily aware of the risks in this line of crime-fighting. "How will I know if you... get your hands burned?"

"It's corporate fraud I'm infiltrating, not the Mob," Finn hastened to reassure him. "White collar crime. Shouldn't be that risky. But, well, I can give Benitez your number, perhaps. She's going to be one of my handlers. I can tell her to add it to my emergency contacts. Only in case of real dire emergency, I mean."

"That would be good." Ziggy felt quite disproportionately relieved that he could maintain some frail thread of a link with Finn. "Can you give me _her_ number? In case something happens to me, I mean, I can do the same."

Finn hesitated for a few seconds, presumably remembering the fire episode, before nodding. "Okay.... but it would have to be a matter of life or death. Seriously."

"Seriously," Ziggy echoed.


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The story of Ziggy, Linus's cop friend in the Chris 'verse, and the love of his life. Part 4: Finn's working undercover and Ziggy doesn't know where he is.
> 
> Excerpt: It was like the first time he'd seen Finn in Chris's roadside bar. Finn hadn't seen Ziggy, but Ziggy spotted Finn instantly.

Six months passed. 

Ziggy looked back on them as his six months in _deep freeze_. Life went on, and on the surface everything was just as always; work, golf, poker, beer, more work.

But there was no meeting with Finn to look forward to. No phone calls, no emails, and beneath the surface Ziggy was frozen. Not allowing himself to pine, he was essentially just waiting for Finn's return while not thinking too much about how or when that might happen. The prospect of a call from Benitez to report Finn dead or seriously injured was so horrific that Ziggy pushed himself further into the freezer rather than contemplate this for any length of time.

He didn't sleep with anyone else. He didn't want to. He kept his sex drive on a tighter rein than even in the pre-Finn days. He told Linus, Edward, and the very few other people who knew that he had a significant other, that Finn had gone away for work for a while, which was true. He didn't go into any further detail.

Meanwhile Linus saw Jeremy occasionally, and regaled Ziggy with news of how Jeremy was learning to be a stagehand, helping out painting and shifting scenery, and then one day declared that he and Ziggy really had to go visit.

"The theater is going to have an all-male modern dance troupe in residence for a few days, apparently they dance stripped naked to the waist most of the time," Linus gushed enthusiastically. "Lucien says we can have as many tickets as we want for the opening night. And we can see darling Jeremy."

"You arrange it, I'll come along for the ride." Ziggy wasn't bothered about the dance troupe, but figured it would be nice to have a long weekend in the Big Apple and see young Jeremy at last.

Linus talked Chris and Edward into coming too, and quite a few others, until they were a party of ten.

* * *

The theater weekend came. The party made their separate ways to the Big Apple. Linus drove Ziggy there, to a nice hotel off-off Broadway. Having checked in to separate rooms, they agreed to meet in the bar before taking a taxi to the theater.

Ziggy freshened up quickly and was down early. He glanced briefly around the bar, no sign of Linus yet.

But perched on a stool at the far end of the counter, was Finn.

It was like the first time he'd seen Finn in Chris's roadside bar. Finn hadn't seen Ziggy, but Ziggy spotted Finn instantly. He was clean-shaven, so looked very different--Ziggy had never seen Finn without his circle beard before--but it was definitely him.

On the stool next to him was a small woman with shoulder-length blond hair. They seemed to be chatting away. As Ziggy stared, she laughed at something he said, and flicked her hair back. Then she reached out and touched Finn lightly on the arm. He didn't reciprocate, but neither did he pull away.

_What the fuck was going on?_

Seeing Finn sliding off the stool, Ziggy slipped out of the bar and lurked behind a potted plant in the lobby. A minute later, Finn appeared without his lady companion and headed to the elevator. Ziggy craned his neck to see the button Finn pressed before the doors closed; tenth floor. He half-ran to catch the next elevator and took it to floor ten. He got out just in time to see Finn vanishing into a room at the far end of the corridor.

Ziggy walked briskly down to the same door, rapped and croaked through his nose, "Room service."

There came a scraping sound as the door was unlocked, then it opened a crack. Finn's voice, unmistakable. "I didn't order--"

Ziggy activated his aggressive cop door-shove and pushed his way in.

As Finn gawped, Ziggy could not help but contrast the experience with all the many times he had opened a hotel room door to find Finn on the other side. The smooth chin and hairless cheeks were a shock close-up, but worse than that; never before had he been greeted with such an expression of surprise, alarm and...horror.

_"Ziggy!_ What are you doing here? _"_

"I'm in New York to go to the theater," Ziggy said coldly, closing the door behind him. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Finn opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. "I'm working undercover. You know I'm undercover!"

"Yeah. But I didn't realize working undercover meant spending your time drinking with friendly blond women."

And Finn's cheeks flushed red, and his eyes dropped to the floor. Ziggy, feeling his way with some difficulty, perceived guilt and embarrassment. He felt anger rise in his chest.

"What? Is she not just a _friend?"_

"Of course she's just a friend! I mean...she works for the company I'm working for. She's the bosses' secretary. She's the only one who can log into his computer. The Bureau encouraged me to...get to know her better."

Ziggy digested this with a growing sense of disbelief. "Is this a _honeytrap_?"

"We don't do honeytraps," Finn protested, then added weakly, "Not official ones, anyway." 

"But unofficial ones are clearly fine." Ziggy could not have been more outraged. "They're encouraging you to get to know her better, and you're going along with this?"

"Look, we really can't talk now," Finn said desperately. "My handlers are coming--they'll be here any minute. They're going to mike me up before I have dinner with her. You have to go!"

"I'm not fucking well going anywhere until--"

And there was a knock at the door.

"It's them! Look--hide in the closet!" And Finn's panic was so real that Ziggy let himself be pushed into the closet.

The irony did not escape him.

Finn left the door open a crack, for air, Ziggy presumed. He cranked it open a little more so he could see out, and watched Finn let two men into the room; one little, one large. The little one was maybe five feet six tall and was busy chewing gum, the larger one topped six feet easily, and wore wire-rimmed glasses. Both sported smart dark suits with ties. Ziggy would have clocked them as Feds from a hundred paces. 

There was a lot of back-slapping and chat that Ziggy couldn't hear very well, then they got down to business. Little opened up a briefcase and removed a small black transmitter with a mike attached. Finn stripped off his shirt, and Large stuck the device to his chest with a roll of tape.

Ziggy couldn't help but notice that Finn had shaved his chest. It was a look Linus would have liked, although Ziggy preferred the sprinkling of hair that had once been there. He supposed the shaven look was necessary to avoid tape removal agony. 

"There you go," Large said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "Careful you don't end up going back to her room with her while you've got that stuck on your chest."

"You'd have to sneak off to the bathroom and take it off before she rips your shirt off," Little chortled. "Don't worry, we won't tell the girlfriend."

Finn's laugh was strained as he pulled his shirt back on. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"No? You're not doing your partner, the one with the--" Large mimed breasts.

"Benitez? She'd cut my balls off if I tried," Finn joked as he buttoned.

"Yeah, she probably would," Large agreed solemnly.

"Hey Finn, when you're out from under we should go back to that titty bar," Little suggested. "See if we can find that little redhead you hooked up with before."

"Uh, maybe." Now Finn's laugh really was strained. "Shouldn't you guys be going? I have to be down for dinner in a few minutes."

"We're going." Little closed the briefcase. "Okay, when you're ready to go downstairs make sure you turn the mike on. We'll be listening in from down the hall. See you later."

"See you," Finn echoed, and the feds left.

Finn closed the door carefully after them, and Ziggy watched him wait by the door, listening. A minute later, apparently satisfied they had gone, Finn strode back across the room and threw open the closet door.

Ziggy stepped out and pointed dumbly at Finn's chest. 

Finn reached down to pull out the microphone wire out from the transmitter, showing that it couldn't possibly be broadcasting. "We're okay."

Ziggy was shaking so hard he could hardly get any words out. He licked his lips and came straight to the point. "What the hell was that titty bar stuff?"

Finn was beetroot-faced. "They took me there the last night before I went undercover. I pretended I was having a good time, and ended up in a room with this woman. I told her I had a headache and paid her off, she was happy and went home to her kid early that night."

"And you let them think you fucked her." Ziggy could not have been more disgusted.

"It was the easiest thing to do." Finn stared at the floor.

"You're a coward," Ziggy burst out. 

Finn flinched. "That's not fair."

"Oh yeah? You know, when I was in college and police academy, I got a lot of homophobic shit shoveled on me." Ziggy spoke slowly and deliberately. "Porn left in my locker, graffiti in the men's room, jokes about dropping the soap in the shower, I got called a _fucking faggot_ every day."

Finn looked hunted. "And?"

"Sometimes I wondered if I'd made a mistake being out, maybe I should have stayed in the closet like some other guys there were." Ziggy was blunt. "But now I realize I did the right thing. 'Cause _nothing_ I ever endured in all those years was anything like as humiliating as the crap _you_ put up with every day."

Finn hung his head. "But what can I do?"

Ziggy didn't hesitate. "You tell your handlers that you're not going through with this honeytrap bullshit, because you're in a committed relationship."

"I can't do that." Finn covered his face with his hands. "I was supposed to tell them about relationships before I went undercover."

"Then stop lying to them and tell them now."

"I can't! It would jeopardize the whole operation. And anyway, they'd want to know who you were. If you were a woman it might be okay, but..."

As Finn's voice trailed away Ziggy felt something snap inside his chest, followed by a long unraveling of hope and patience. Suddenly he felt very calm.

"Then I've had it." Ziggy flicked a hand in a gesture of dismissal as he walked toward to the door. "We're finished. I'm not propping up your closet a moment longer."

"Ziggy...please..." Finn stuttered.

"Goodbye, Fintan Massey," Ziggy said, opening the door. "Good luck with the job."

He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door softly behind him.

* * *

Only half way down the corridor did he start to tremble. He stabbed at the button to call the elevator three times before succeeding. Down in the hotel lobby, he might have wandered randomly out into the street, except that someone was waiting for him by the door.

"Ziggy! You're late, I was about to call you!" Linus grabbed him by the arm, and concern flickered across his face. "Ziggy? What's happened?"

"I just saw Finn with someone else." Ziggy couldn't help but blurt it out. "He's a lily-livered scumbag and I never want to see him ever again."

"Oh." Linus frowned, then held up his hand for a cab and declared, "It sounds to me, Ziggy, like what you need is a couple of hours watching hot half-naked young men cavorting around a stage."

* * *

Everyone else was already there at the theater, milling around with drinks in the foyer. Linus zipped off to talk to Lucien, their host, but not before shoving Ziggy in the direction of Chris and Edward. "Darlings, look after Ziggy for me!"

Chris looked mystified and Edward surprised, but they each took one look at Ziggy's face and rallied around. Edward slung an arm around Ziggy's shoulders and moved him clear of the group. 

"Wanna talk about it?" Edward said softly in Ziggy's ear.

"Nope," Ziggy said tersely, and Edward immediately started chatting about the terrible journey he and Chris had had driving up from New Jersey.

Meanwhile Chris vanished and returned with a beer and a neat whisky quicker than Ziggy would have thought humanely possible, given the crush at the bar. He was accompanied by someone who made Ziggy suddenly smile despite the madness raging inside his head; Jeremy, clad in jeans and T-shirt, looking relaxed and happy and older than Ziggy remembered him. He'd had a haircut, maybe that was it.

"Hey," Ziggy said gruffly, reaching out a hand.

"Officer Bowie, I presume," Jeremy said with a handshake and a wink, and Ziggy belatedly remembered that he wasn't supposed to have met Jeremy before. It seemed much less important now than it had once done. 

He accepted both the whisky and beer from Chris, and took a gulp of the first followed by a swig of the second. The alcohol zipped through his system, and suddenly life seemed a little more tolerable.

The hot half-naked dance troupe were a welcome distraction. They didn't require much concentration, and Ziggy watched in a daze. Bare chests with prominent nipples, well-muscled shoulders and tight pants paraded before him, and he saw them, even appreciated them. But it was as if they existed in a parallel universe.

Afterward the party decamped by cab to Lucien's home, a very nice pad on the Upper East Side. It had a roof garden where drinks were served. Ziggy grabbed a beer and went to hide in a dark corner, but found himself followed by Jeremy and Edward.

Jeremy sat on one side of him and Edward on the other. Edward asked, "Ziggy, what's wrong What's happened?"

Suddenly Ziggy realized that he was with the two people in the world who not only knew about his relationship with Finn, but also that Finn was a federal agent. Sick and tired of bottling everything up, he spilled a little.

"I just broke up with Finn."

Jeremy sighed and Edward sucked in his breath.

"He's been working undercover for the last six months investigating corporate fraud. I just bumped into him in my hotel, at the bar." Ziggy bit the words out. "He's busy male-bonding with his Bureau buddies by going to strip joints and pretending to sleep with women."

"Oh my God, that's terrible." Jeremy put a hand over his mouth.

"Fuck." Edward kept it simple.

"Now the Bureau are edging him toward a honeytrap with a woman co-worker," Ziggy went on, becoming more bitter by the second. "He's too yellow to tell them why this is fucking not right."

"Do you actually not trust him with women?" Edward said with much curiosity. "I mean, we're not all on the far end of the Kinsey scale like, um, Chris, Linus and yourself. Do you think he might be bi?"

"No, actually I don't." Ziggy spoke honestly. "I think he worked through that a long time ago, back in college, but he's too chicken-shit-scared to follow through what it all means."

Chris wandered up, dangling a beer bottle between fingertips, and sat down next to Edward. Edward put out a hand and interlaced fingers with Chris; not for the first time, Ziggy admired how beautifully Chris and Edward went together.

"Uh Ziggy, thought you might like to know, Linus thinks you need to get laid," Chris said awkwardly. "He's talking to Lucien about lining up one of the dancers for you."

"What the hell!" Ziggy felt steam coming out of his ears. "Just because that's how _he_ makes himself feel better--"

"I did try to tell him." Chris held his hands up. "He means well, Ziggy."

"You can go tell him to stick his dancing whore up his own ass." Ziggy stood up. "How much is a taxi home, do you think? Upper East Side to the New Jersey shore--"

"What?" Edward and Jeremy said together.

"You're going home?" Chris asked.

"I'm not going back to that fucking hotel knowing Finn's lurking undercover on the next floor." Ziggy had never felt anything more strongly in his life.

"You can come stay at my place," Jeremy offered immediately. "It's small, but I'd love to have you."

Ziggy hesitated. That---sounded alright. He didn't really want to take an absurdly expensive taxi all the way home in the middle of the night. "Okay, maybe I will. Thanks."

"Your luggage'll be at your hotel," Chris pointed out. 

"I'm not going back." The hotel could junk his overnight stuff for all Ziggy cared right now. "The room's all paid up."

"I'll go get your things for you," Edward offered.

"No." Ziggy didn't want Edward traipsing across town for him. "It doesn't matter. I don't need anything tonight."

"Tomorrow, then. Chris and I are staying at a hotel just a block away from yours. I'll go get your stuff after breakfast and bring it to Jeremy's." Edward looked at Jeremy. "Is that okay?"

"Fantastic," Jeremy assured them.

That also sounded alright. Ziggy hesitated, then nodded. He gave Edward the plastic key card to his hotel room. "Don't bump into Finn if you can help it."

* * *

Jeremy's home was indeed small, one room in a echoing house with a shared kitchen and bathroom. But it was cozy, and Jeremy was so obviously proud of it that Ziggy felt proud of him.

"You can have the bed, I can sleep on the couch," Jeremy offered.

"No no, I can take the couch," Ziggy said hastily.

Jeremy protested, but gave way, and Ziggy settled himself comfortably under blankets on the couch. The bed was down the other end of the room, with a two-panel bamboo screen dividing the space although not adding much in the way of privacy. 

Contrary to his expectations, Ziggy fell almost immediately into a deep alcohol-massaged sleep. He dreamed of Fintan Massey. It was the first time he'd dreamed of Finn since he'd gone away, as if he'd been keeping his subconscious self on as tight a rein as his conscious self. Now he'd seen Finn, all bets were off. 

His mind raced off and took him to earthy pleasures.He was sucking Finn's cock. It hardened quickly under his tongue; it felt thick and raw in his mouth. Musk filled his nose and thrilled all his sense. Then Finn was sucking his cock, and he knew exactly what to do. How to move his mouth _back_ and forth, _up_ and down; shuddering pleasure arched its way up Ziggy's spine to form mute, wordless cries...

He woke with a jump, and an enormous hard-on. He stayed still for several minutes, breathing shallowly, trying to will it away; no go. He was too inhibited to finish himself off with Jeremy sleeping down the other end of the room; he knew Linus in a similar situation would have simply jacked off, but then Linus wouldn't have been sleeping on the couch in the first place. 

Ziggy hauled himself up with some difficulty, and slipped out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom as quietly as possible. Safely behind a locked door, he perched on the edge of the bathtub and jacked himself off. It took seconds, and left him weak and wondering if maybe Linus had been right about getting laid after all.

He slipped back into Jeremy's room and to the couch, thinking he'd been quiet enough until Jeremy's voice sounded quietly through the darkness. "Hey. You okay?"

"Peachy," Ziggy responded, pulling the blankets around himself again. "Sorry I woke you."

"S'okay." Jeremy didn't sound sleepy at all. "I like having people around. I haven't lived on my own before and it can get a bit creepy sometimes at night."

Ziggy pondered the situation of the eighteen-year-old Jeremy, living independently in New York City after a childhood with parents in rural Mississippi and a stint staying in Linus's home. Could the kid cook for himself? Would he know how to clean? Ziggy tried to remember himself aged eighteen. He thought he'd been fairly clueless.

"You managing okay here? Can you pay bills and stuff?"

"Oh yes, very well. I can afford my rent and everything I need, just about, from my job." Jeremy turned chatty. "Everyone at the theater is very nice. I've made some good friends and they help me a lot. And Linus visits quite often and stays over. It saves him paying for a hotel room."

Ziggy knew Linus frequently had to come to the city for business reasons. An ephebophile with a grateful eighteen-year-old ass on tap in his own place. Linus would be in hog's heaven.

"I bet he doesn't sleep on the couch," Ziggy found himself saying.

"Well, no," Jeremy admitted. "But it's not what you think."

_Oh puh-lease._ Speaking into the darkness of the room emboldened Ziggy. "Jeremy, if you try and tell me Linus isn't fucking you, I just won't believe you."

"No, I mean, yes, he is now. But he didn't touch me until I turned eighteen," Jeremy insisted. "He said we should wait."

What clearly sounded _romantic_ to Jeremy sounded like _grooming_ to Ziggy's law enforcement ears.

"Not just that," Jeremy pursued. "He waited until I'd moved out of his house, was all set up here, and then he said he would just leave if I wanted, get out of my life, no obligations, no nothing. And I said... no, I want you to stay." Pause. "So, he stayed."

Ziggy ruminated on this. It had the ring of truth. His cop cynicism faded; Jeremy was one of those transparently open people, barely capable of lying. And indeed, why lie at this point anyway?

"Linus is a good person," Jeremy said unexpectedly. "You worry about him too much," 

"I have too." Suddenly Ziggy felt tired. "It's my job to. I know that one day he's going to screw up with someone who turns out to be just too young, and he'll get into seriously grave trouble. He'll wind up in jail labeled a pedo, and the other prisoners will kill him. I won't be able to do a fucking thing to help."

"You should have more faith in him to do the right thing," Jeremy insisted. "He's your friend, give him more credit." Pause. "Same with Finn. You should trust him."

Ziggy was very still. 

"I was thinking about it. You called Finn a coward, but he's not, is he?" Jeremy pushed on. "He couldn't possibly do his job if he was a coward. Nobody could go and do undercover work if they weren't awfully brave."

"Or stupid."

"Brave," Jeremy persisted. "Like you, Linus has told me about some of the things you've done, how you got promoted a few months ago after--"

"I just do my job," Ziggy interrupted. "And that's all Finn's doing too. His job."

"Maybe he couldn't do that job if he were out," Jeremy suggested. "Maybe it's like the army. Don't ask, don't tell? If he told, maybe he'd have to leave?"

Ziggy sighed. He'd discussed this kind of thing with Finn in the past. "It's one of those things that shouldn't be a problem, but he'd likely get a hard time. There was a Fed a few years ago, guy called Frank Buttino. He lost his security clearance and then got fired when they found out he was gay."

"Then it could be Finn has to choose between you or the job," Jeremy said gravely. "That's a tough position to be in, if he loves his job."

Ziggy had no words. Jeremy didn't say anything more either, and gradually Ziggy felt sleep overwhelming his buzzing brain again.

* * *

The following morning Ziggy had barely gotten up when the doorbell rang, Jeremy went to answer and returned accompanied by Edward with Ziggy's small overnight bag. He put the case down in the middle of the floor. "Hey, I think I found everything. You hadn't really unpacked."

"No," Ziggy agreed. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"Chris is having breakfast at the hotel with Linus and one of the dancers. I think Linus decided if you didn't want to have a dancer, he might as well," Edward said drolly.

Ziggy laughed at that. "Very Linus."

"Shall we go get some breakfast too?" Jeremy suggested. "There's a great diner just around the corner."

But before Ziggy could answer, the doorbell rang again. They all looked at each other in surprise, then Jeremy went to answer. 

"Hi, I'm looking for Officer Bowie," a female voice chimed through from the hall.

Ziggy felt his jaw drop. It was Finn's partner, the Fed With. What the hell was she doing here?

Jeremy came back into the room, brow furrowed, and right behind him was Agent Benitez. She was immaculately turned out in smart pants and a jacket. She came straight up to Ziggy and held out a hand.

"Hi, I'm Hilary Benitez. I think we've met before, briefly."

"Yeah." Ziggy shook her hand (a firm shake) but could hardly look at her.

"I was hoping we could have a little chat." Benitez glanced first at Jeremy, then at Edward. 

Edward took the hint. "We'll be out in the kitchen, Ziggy, give us a shout if you need us," he said, grabbing Jeremy by the arm and yanking him out of the door.

Alone with Benitez, Ziggy sat down on the couch. He felt scruffy and unshaven, and uncomfortably aware that he'd been sleeping right there on the sofa under blankets barely half an hour ago. 

She perched nearby on a mismatched chair, and seemed content to spend a few minutes just looking around the room.

"How did you find me?" Ziggy couldn't help but start the conversation. Fucking Feds, they'd probably bugged him or something.

"I was waiting for you to come back to your hotel room this morning. But instead your buddy turned up and left with your case," Benitez explained. "So I followed him here."

"But why were you looking for me?" Ziggy demanded, racking his brains for everything he knew about Benitez. Precious little, actually. 

"I wanted to tell you about something I heard last night," Benitez sat back in the chair. "A conversation between my partner Fintan Massey, whom I believe you know, and a female target he was having dinner with."

What? The honeytrap woman? Where the hell was this going? Ziggy couldn't tell at all. He hated it, but had to just keep listening.

"Their conversation was being transmitted to myself and a couple of my colleagues in another room, we'll call them Bert and Ernie," Benitez said briskly. (Little and Large, Ziggy assumed, and almost smiled). "Agent Massey was making polite conversation about a movie with the target, let's call her Susan." 

Her name was presumably anything but Susan. Ziggy's heart was beating so hard he could hardly hear.

"Susan put the moves on him, and Bert and Ernie and I sat listening, wondering how he was going to handle this, how he was gonna get out of it," Benitez went on. "And to our surprise, he told her he couldn't go to bed with her because he was gay. Bert and Ernie thought this was an ingenious way out of the situation, they laughed and admired his nerve. Me, I sat and listened to a coming out story."

Ziggy tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Susan was shocked and asked him lots of questions. How long had he known, was he sure? Massey told her he'd always known, although he'd tried to suppress it, tried to deny it even to himself; that he'd eventually accepted it, but not dared to tell anyone," Benitez recited. "He said his Mom and family had no idea. Nor his work colleagues. By which Susan assumed he meant herself and her co-workers, but I didn't hear it like that."

No, indeed. Finn had done it, he'd come out to his Bureau colleagues... but what a way! While undercover, in a different persona, using a microphone taped to his chest. 

"Susan lapped it up," Benitez said in a tone of wonder. "She asked him if he had a boyfriend, to which he said no. But then he told her that he'd been in a long-term relationship that had ended badly, and left him heartbroken; and that he hadn't realized how important this person had been to him until he lost him. Then he broke down in tears--awesome acting, Bert and Ernie thought--and she broke down right there with him."

Ziggy hadn't cried since he was three years old. He'd sometimes thought his tear ducts had long-since shrivelled away, but now found this was not the case. They'd just been biding their time, waiting for the moment where nothing else would do. Ziggy dropped his head and cried there right along with Finn and Susan.

Benitez mercifully didn't try and console him, but waited until his sobs had reduced to sniffs before finishing her story. "Massey and Susan ended up swapping hankies and patting each other on the back. And in return for his confidence, she told him about the affair she'd recently had with her boss--which was very interesting news to us all--which had also ended badly. She was quite bitter and vehement; said among other things that she used her pet name for him for his computer password. Also very interesting news for us, as you can imagine."

"Glad the Bureau got something out of Finn's ingenuity." Ziggy couldn't help but be bitter himself.

"Oh, it got better!" Benitez said brightly. "Susan then excused herself to go to the bathroom to wash away the tear stains, and left her coat behind with her keys in the pocket. Finn had been waiting days for a chance to get an impression of her office key, he had the wax right there in his own pocket. We got it off him along with the microphone afterwards, and Bert and Ernie had a new key cut by midnight. It could crack the whole case; we're researching pet names right now."

"And Bert and Ernie still think this was all Finn's cunning plan, to get Susan to open up?" Ziggy asked incredulously.

"Yes, but right now I think that's a good thing, no point distracting them," Benitez was practical. "Massey--Finn, laid the groundwork for later on."

"Will he get in trouble?" Ziggy remembered Jeremy's query. "It's not like _don't ask, don't tell_ , is it?"

"No, the Bureau talks the talk about embracing diversity these days." Benitez hesitated. "I'm not gonna pretend they always walk the walk too. It depends on behavior and judgement and all sorts of stuff like that. But Finn's going to be in a real strong position when he comes out from undercover, 'cause if he's cracked the case like I think he just has, he'll be a fucking hero and nobody can take that away from him."

"Just doing his job," Ziggy muttered. 

"It would actually help if he was in an open committed relationship, you know. Less chance of blackmail and so on. When he gave me your number as an emergency contact I couldn't believe he just didn't 'fess up to me," Benitez went on chattily. "Christ knows, I think it's the worst kept secret I've ever seen. But then it's amazing how blind people like Bert and Ernie can be if they're not looking for it."

That was very true; Ziggy knew it himself. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Thanks for coming to find me. Uh, maybe you could give him a message?"

"Not right now," Benitez said cautiously. "Maybe in a few days. Something I can say in front of Bert and Ernie."

"Fine." Ziggy struggled to find a suitable sentence. "Tell him... tell him his golfing buddy in New Jersey says hi, and he should get in touch when he's free and we'll have a game sometime."

"Will do." Benitez stood up, smoothing her pants legs down. "Good to meet you properly, Officer Bowie."

And she was gone. Ziggy went into the hall to check she'd actually left, then went to the kitchen where Jeremy and Edward were waiting. Jeremy was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, Edward perched right on the edge of chair, apparently on tenderhooks.

"Is everything all right?" Edward asked.

"Yeah. You know, I think it is," said Ziggy, dazedly. "Shall we go get that breakfast?"

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

Ziggy and Linus simultaneously shouldered their golf bags and strolled companionably toward the next hole. It was a sunny, fall day with russet leaves drifting down from the trees around.

"So what's new with you?" Ziggy asked, placing the ball on the tee. 

"Ah, I saw darling Jeremy last weekend." Linus watched Ziggy take the shot. "He says hello. He's got a proper assistant stagehand role for the next production at the theater which he's very excited about. Do you know he's been there nearly a year now? He's coming up for his nineteenth birthday. I was quite shocked to realize."

"Practically middle-aged," Ziggy joked. 

"Also, he has a boyfriend." Linus lined up his own shot. "Very nice guy, although I was a bit surprised when I met him. Tall man with a giant spider tattoo covering most of his shaven head, and part of his face."

"Whoa!" Ziggy was amused. "Well, it takes all sorts."

"indeed. I'll probably be staying with dear Jeremy less often from now on," Linus said rather sadly, squinting to see where his ball had gone. "The spider tat boyfriend seems very laid back about everything, but I don't want to cause any ripples."

It wasn't often that Ziggy spotted Linus in _lonely_ mode, he was always so busy and had so many friends; but Ziggy knew that Linus envied people in relationships, such as Chris and Edward, and occasionally wistfulness seeped through his breezy persona. Ziggy sought to move the subject on.

"You could get a tattoo yourself," Ziggy suggested, as they started to walk toward the next hole. He himself had a couple of tats, but had been careful to ensure they were discreet and invisible under clothing.

"No, no, I'm far too much of a coward about pain for anything like that--Hey!"

A golf ball sailed high over their heads, toward the next hole. They both gaped at the shot (pretty accurate) and turned to see where it had come from them. About fifty feet behind them, clutching a club, was Finn.

"It's the Significant Other!" Linus gabbled in excitement. "My word, he looks good!"

He did. He looked just like he always had; the neatly clipped circle beard was there, the tousled hair. Ziggy felt his heart jump; Fintan Massey was back.

Linus stayed discreetly where he was as Finn walked toward them. Ziggy approached in turn, and they met halfway.

"Hey," Finn said awkwardly as the gap between them closed to a couple of feet. "I hear you said we could have a game of golf when I was free, Well, I'm out."

"From undercover?" Ziggy guessed.

"That too," Finn said.

That was all Ziggy needed to know; he threw out his arms and held Finn tight.

END

* * *

**A/N:** The [Buttino](http://www.nytimes.com/1990/10/05/us/fbi-is-assailed-over-gay-agent-s-dismissal.html) [Case](http://www.nytimes.com/1993/12/03/us/gay-workers-gain-bias-rule-at-fbi.html).


End file.
